


what's your pleasure

by sybilluv



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Bilingual V, Bisexual Panam Palmer, Canon Divergent, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Get off my nuts. I'm sad about it, Humor, I'm not good at writing smut so please be kind with me, Just two gals being idiots again, Not Beta Read, Self-Indulgent, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Bondage, Yes I'm yelling in queer that was cheated out of getting that wlw romance with Panam, female v, it really is self-indulgent tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29642649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybilluv/pseuds/sybilluv
Summary: How many people has she done this with? Dozens, probably. She's a master of getting people into her web, Panam bets. With the way she's looking at Panam so patiently, that sly little smirk on her full lips that she could just—Fuck. Alright, so maybe something might happen between the two of them tonight.
Relationships: Panam Palmer/V
Comments: 34
Kudos: 147





	1. Get to Know Me

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I've had this idea of a friends with benefits-ish fic bouncing around in my head for a while and yes this is just lots of smut. Which isn't one of my strong suits so if the quality dips then that's why. I'm more comfortable writing angst and character studies so this is definitely outside of my comfort zone, but hopefully I learn how to improve from here.  
> There will definitely be mistakes (which are, as always, my own) and weird wordings here and there. Also V is bilingual in this fic as well! Hopefully it's not cringey, I'm trying my best lmao. Hope you enjoy reading!  
> The title of this fic is based off of Jessie Ware's What's Your Pleasure. Because it fucks. It's a banger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so I've had this idea of a friends with benefits-ish fic bouncing around in my head for a while and yes this is just lots of smut. Which isn't one of my strong suits so if the quality dips then that's why. I'm more comfortable writing angst and character studies so this is definitely outside of my comfort zone, but hopefully I learn how to improve from here.  
> There will definitely be mistakes (which are, as always, my own) and weird wordings here and there. Also V is bilingual in this fic as well! Hopefully it's not cringey, I'm trying my best lmao. Hope you enjoy reading!  
> The title of this fic is based off of Jessie Ware's What's Your Pleasure. Because it fucks. It's a banger.

The Sunset Motel is a place Panam loves to visit to blow off some steam. Noah’s gotten his fair share of visits from Panam, enraged and ready to drink all her emotions away, which usually takes half a dozen bottles of Brosephs. He’s heard her complain about the Aldecaldos— primarily Saul Bright, the chief who seems to care about Panam in less orthodox ways.

Although, Panam shows her affection in a similar way. She isn’t the type to be soft, and definitely not honest. Candor in regards to stubbornness, but not to anything else. Her sharp tongue and wit make for a great combination in an argument, but if you don’t know her well enough, it’s hard to get a read on her.

At least, that’s what Noah thought.

“New biz or new friend back there?” Noah asks, one eyebrow raised as an unfamiliar woman walks slowly by Panam’s side. She’s a head taller than the nomad woman, with silver hair tied back seemingly effortlessly.

Panam rolls her eyes, retorts with a sarcastic, “Take a wild guess.” She plops herself down at the bar, and her friend follows, sliding into the seat next to Panam. “Is everything good with you? Did those bozos come around again?”

Noah alleviates her worries as Panam’s companion quietly watches the interaction. She’s quite the looker, Noah’ll say that much. He hasn’t seen much of Panam recently, what with her leaving the Aldecaldos and heading into the city. She seems to be doing quite well, though, if she has a companion that follows her around like she is now, and—

“What can I get ya?” Noah asks with a smile, already knowing Panam’s answer.

Her companion speaks up quickly, though, raising a hand and brushing it against Panam’s elbow on the countertop. “Panam, I don’t—”

“If you’re about to tell me you don’t drink, then don’t lie, V,” Panam interrupts easily, one corner of her lip twitching when V pouts. “Saw you drinking at the Afterlife, you know. So! Brosephs, Noah. Two of ‘em. Unless that’s too low-bar for you, city-girl?” 

V laughs once, a puff of air while she rolls her eyes. She playfully nudges Panam, “It’s fine with me, _muñeca._ No need to be a brat. I will say,” she adds after Noah places their drinks in front of them, “It’s been a while since I’ve had beer. Is it normally what nomads drink?”

There’s a beat while Panam lifts the bottle of beer to her lips, raising one finger in her other hand for V to wait. It takes her less than half a minute to drain the entire bottle, not that V’s counting, but she does raise a brow when Panam asks for another. “Trying to feed into the nomad stereotypes, are we, V?”

“Nothing like that,” V chuckles, gathering the condensation on the bottle with her fingers, “Merely trying to… sate my curiosity. Is that wrong of me?” She glances at Panam, smiling so sweet even when her nomad companion gives her a look.

V’s smile only widens as their standoff continues. 

“Beer is easy to lug around in the desert, so yes. Though you do have the occasional nomad with a bottle of their preferred liquor of choice,” Panam changes the subject, kicking V underneath the bar when she laughs. "I have seen Cassidy lugging around a bottle of fine red wine—"

"Wine? It must spoil quickly in the desert," V interrupts, raising her hands in apology when Panam glares at her. "Sorry. Continue. I promise I won't interrupt."

Panam scoffs before she even thinks about it, "Don't make promises you can't keep. Yes, wine spoils quickly in the Badlands, especially when you don't refrigerate it. So, the thing that Cassidy normally does is drink it all in one day. Not by himself, of course. He shares it with the tribe, because it's not often that we— they get some booze that isn't just some good ole' fashioned beer. I will admit that some get tired of it after a while, but I haven't. I hold it near and dear to my heart."

V hums, looking down at her bottle of Broseph before looking back up at Panam. "You talk so fondly about the Aldecaldos. Did your disdain for Saul really have you abandon ship so quickly?"

Hmm. Panam's eye twitches, but she knows that V doesn't know any better. She reins in the quickly bubbling anger in her gut and suppresses it, extinguishes the flame. "Yes. I... compared to how Saul first ordered the tribe around, he's become so much more tame. Though, I suppose it is understandable to a degree, considering what sort of nightmares we've heard other independent families go through. Demolished by Raffen Shiv," she starts counting off on one hand, "utterly decimated by megacorporations, or in-fighting that causes a complete collapse of the tribe. There's also the possibility of those families joining up with other Nations after they separate, but that's a whole other story. I wouldn't want to bore you."

Talking about Nomad politics seems to have quite the opposite effect though. "No, you wouldn't bore me at all. I'm actually curious. When I was with—" V quickly clamps her jaw shut, glancing around the bar. "Well. My previous employers didn't often deal with nomads, so hearing about them now is like a breath of fresh air, really. It's just a matter of sating my curiosity, as I said."

"Either that, or you just like the sound of me talking your ear off," Panam grumbles, taking another swig of her drink. She's not nearly drunk enough to retort to V's blatant flirtations. Not when she smirks at Panam, runs her fingers against the sides of her bottle, the tips of her fingers glistening in the neon-lit bar—

 _Jesus._ Relax, Panam. You've only known V for a day. Nothing's going to come from flirting with her, now. 

V's light laughter brings Panam back from her thoughts. "Either or, really. Just choose whatever your heart desires," she murmurs low, her knee brushing against Panam's. "But really, tell me more. I only know the basics from what I've heard from the rumor-mills in Night City, and now you." V turns her body toward Panam, crosses her legs.

She notices how Panam's eyes flicker down before shooting straight back up.

"Are you sure? I'm confident that you don't know what you're trying to talk yourself into, V." Panam definitely could've worded that better. V hums, wets her lips with the tip of her tongue. 

From the call that Panam got from V to now, she's starting to slowly learn how the mysterious mercenary functions. She knows that V used to work for a megacorporation. Whispers from Rogue about a corpo-rat-turned-solo, pre-Panam learning that the partner that Rogue set her up with was fucking Raffen Shiv scum. 

_"Watch out for the girl who carries herself like a corpo. Silver hair, gray eyes, about six feet tall. Wears all black and, from what I remember from most recent intel, a pendant with a bullet around her neck. Try to find all the information you can for me on her, Nix, would you?"_

Sure, Panam had been snooping. Eavesdropping is probably more of a precise word. But she'd do anything to have a sort of one-up on Rogue Amendiares. After what she did to her, setting her up with Nash like that... Fuck, just thinking about it pisses her off.

But honestly, she understands why Rogue was so adamant on learning about V. She's seen her in two fights so far, and in both she was a fucking powerhouse. Most netrunners she knows just keep back, staying behind cover and shutting every enemy down from afar. V, though, she goes straight in. Delves into the shadows, molds into them so easily that Panam honestly lost track of her a couple of times. If it weren't for them being connected over holo, then Panam would've thought that her newly found companion delta'd, leaving her to deal with all the Raffen Shiv herself.

She hadn't, though; the telltale sound of neck-snapping and muffled fights told her as such. V had even apologized for the uncomfortable sounds before she dropped off of the substation's roof, knowing that she'd be able to take every single Shiv down without them knowing any better.

Even when she didn't have the blessing of stealth, though, V’s a war machine. Keeping her composure even though she and Panam were utterly outnumbered, shooting Shiv from behind cover and even blasting grenades out of the air. Who the fuck does that?

V, apparently. And now she's flirting with Panam, of all people.

How many people has she done this with? Dozens, probably. She's a master of getting people into her web, Panam bets. With the way she's looking at Panam so patiently, that sly little smirk on her full lips that she could just—

Fuck. Alright, so maybe something might happen between the two of them tonight. 

... On the other hand, though, Panam's fucking exhausted. It's been a long day, and while V looks positively energetic, Panam doesn't share that same energy. So while her silver-haired companion's possible offer is quite tantalizing, Panam thinks she should shut this down before—

The knee brushing against her leg is replaced with V's free hand and Panam almost chokes. V's eyes are knitted in a question at that reaction, heavy, prepared to continue, but ready to stop all the same. Damnit, she is not making this easy on Panam. Although that's probably the point, but...

Shit. God. 

V pulls away her hand, pretending as if the entire interaction had never happened. "Hellman. I'm assuming you have a plan for catching him by now?" She turns away from Panam, wrapping her fingers around the neck of her beer bottle to lift it up to her lips.

"I have indeed, but it's still only a first draft. I need to sleep on it, work out the kinks. Then we can talk about the details." She could've used any word beside kink. Jesus. Quickly, Panam adds, "I think it's best to rent rooms here," and she doesn't miss the way V's hands tighten around her drink before relaxing, so quick that Panam would've missed it if she wasn't paying close attention, "just to stay in the area."

"Room, singular?" Of course. She doesn't have that obvious smile on her lips, the wolfish grin that's leading Panam straight into what both of them want, but the tone of her voice makes it to where she doesn't need it. There's a glimmer of want in V's eyes, and Panam's kind of flustered, knowing that want is pointed towards her.

Still, she's not about to let herself fall right into V's web. She's had enough flings to know that having a little fun makes the reward all the better. So she gives V a smile of her own, "Sounds good to me. Noah has twin beds in every room, so we'll save some money." That gets a good reaction. V licks her lips again, presses them together. She brushes her leg against Panam's for the nth time that night, looking at her with hooded eyes. The smallest pout that gets Panam's chest to burn. "Unless that wasn't quite what you had in mind?"

"No, not quite. Though I'm sure that I've made it obvious enough," V purrs, leaning into Panam's personal space, "I can elaborate a little more if that's what you'd like."

Ah. Well, at least she knows how to bite back. When she was with— actually, Panam thinks, grabbing her Broseph and downing the rest of the beer in one go, let's not think about her last fling. V's obviously doing leagues better than him, already.

That hand of hers is back, too. Moving up her knee, brushing the inside of her thigh. Panam grabs it, gives V a warning glare. Not here. Definitely not when the bar's so empty, and Noah's barely even a few feet away.

"V," she growls for good measure, voice low so Noah can't hear her over the music flowing into the room from his radio. V relents with a grin, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks at Panam. So fucking cheeky. Panam pushes herself away from the bar. "Noah, we'll need a room. Twin beds. Just for tonight. And you," she grabs the lapels of V's jacket, yanks her close enough that their noses brush, "Finish the rest of your drink. Then come find me."

"Yes, ma'am," V chirps, unfazed by Panam's roughness. "I won't take too long, so don't you worry."

Panam huffs, dropping her hands from V's jacket before turning on her heel and walking out of the bar. God, what is she doing right now? They've barely even known each other for a day, but... 

But Panam isn't going to complain. Not when V looks at her like that, so openly sexual and flirtatious about everything she does. She's about as subtle as a bull in a china shop, and Panam doesn't hate it. Honestly, it's a welcome change. Her being a woman, too. It's been a while since Panam's been with a woman, and she can't exactly waste her money on joytoys. Her gigs from Rogue pay well, but after learning about Nash and how Rogue just threw the two of them together, she’ll probably have to find another fixer...

Stop. _Stop thinking about that for now, Panam_. Shit, she should've drank more. Might be able to grab the emergency whiskey that she keeps in her Thorn if she's fast enough. Two Brosephs aren't nearly enough for a situation like this. She can still think about what a terrible decision this is, how things might be awkward if they try to be friends afterward—

 _Damnit, Panam! You're an adult. You can compartmentalize, distinguish between sex and friendship._ Not that she's had the need to do it before, not really, but what's life without a few new things to try out every once in a while? They'll have their fun and then have the next few hours to rest. Well, V will rest. Panam needs to check-up on her Thorn, flesh out her plan for capturing Hellman without either of them dying, the fun stuff.

Maybe a break like this is a blessing in disguise. 

Panam opens the door to their room, already slipping off her jacket and throwing it over the closest bed. She’s glad that Noah keeps his rooms relatively clean, not that Panam’s particularly picky. Especially when it’s just a fling and she’s probably going to knock out as soon as they’re finished.

But being on top of V sounds like a pretty sight. Hm. That’s certainly a thought. V looking up at Panam with a flustered face, silver hair fanned out behind her, bottom lip held so tightly between her lips that she might draw blood—

She pauses in the middle of undoing the buckles on her harness, losing herself in that train of thought. Barely hears the door to their room hiss behind her, barely has enough time to turn around before V is on her, slipping her jacket from her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor.

How does she make everything look so fucking hot?

V’s hooking her fingers on Panam’s harness and yanking her close, gray cybernetic eyes glowing in the low light of their room. “I didn’t take too long, did I?” She asks, husky and low. Panam wraps her arms around V’s shoulders, pulls herself up and V down so their lips brush together. V’s so quick to take the lead, closing the distance and kissing Panam, mouth _so_ warm, the bitter taste of the Broseph from earlier on her tongue.

It’s embarrassing, the sound that escapes Panam; breathy and so obviously _wanting_ this, wanting _her._ V knows it, too. She pulls away slightly, guides Panam back until her legs are hitting the mattress closest to them.

A hand on her shoulder pushes, and Panam lets herself fall, catching herself with her hands. V’s not far behind, straddling her with a calculated sort of grace that’s so damn _attractive._ “Am I going too fast? Is this okay?” V asks, sounding just a little breathless.

Panam nods, any coherent thoughts dying when V looks at her with such concern. Mentally, she slaps herself, a sharp reminder that _this is just for fun, for stress relief, it’s not that serious._ “Not fast enough, honestly,” she hears herself murmur.

“That so?” V hums, leaning back slightly to pull her shirt over her shoulders. Panam swallows, tells herself to _breathe,_ but a shirtless V is a sight that steals any air out of her lungs. “I’m sure we can remedy that.”

 _Christ._ She’s catching V’s lips in her own, tangling one hand in V’s hair that feels smooth like silk between her fingers, because she can’t think of any remarks to that. Her face is _burning,_ breaths coming out in shaky exhales while V is scorching against her skin. She moves the hand in V’s hair to her cheek, running her thumb over V’s bottom lip. 

She’s fucking mesmerized.

V takes that opportunity, pushes again and with more force, has Panam’s back hitting the mattress with a gasp. She chuckles, looking down at Panam with that fucking _grin,_ a predator sizing up her prey. “Well. You’re a pretty sight,” she purrs, leaning down to envelop Panam in a curtain of silver hair, illuminated by the light from a lamppost not far from their room. 

“I—” Panam gasps when V roughly yanks her Aldecaldo harness off, nails dragging across her skin through her jeans. They drop to the floor with a muted _thump._ “I could say the same to you, pretty girl,” she mutters, lifting a hand to brush over V’s breast, reveling in the way that V’s breath hitches at such a light touch.

“Flatterer,” V huffs, leaning down to press a kiss to Panam’s jaw. She keeps her hands busy, always moving— she’s pulling the straps of Panam’s one-piece off of her shoulders, making _damn_ sure those nails drag against her skin again. It’s pushed down and bunched up at her hips when V pauses, lifts a hand to trace against—

“When did you get it?” She asks, lightly ghosting her fingers over Panam’s tattoo. It was small, a diamond in black ink.

“Mmh, _years_ ago,” Panam answers after a moment, “I was young and thought that getting a tattoo would make me feel a little more like an adult. Got a diamond because I thought it looked pretty and wouldn’t hurt much,” she lies— half-truths. Diamonds are strong, nearly unbreakable, and Panam wants to be like that. She thought it was poetic at the time; now, though, it’s just a memory of a younger and willfully oblivious Panam Palmer.

“Wanted to grow up quick, huh?” V pushes herself up, deftly retying her hair while still looking at Panam, gray eyes heavily lidded but sharp as steel. _“Oye, tú y yo, los dos._ I got mine as a rebellious streak,” she points at the blue flower on her neck, “Wanted my parents to know how much I didn’t give a shit about what they thought about me. But,” she tilts her head, shrugs before looking down at Panam again, “That’s a story for another time.”

Right. V captures Panam’s lips in hers, swallowing each small noise that escapes her, with every brush of V’s hands over her breast, each drag of her nails against sensitive skin. She moans when V takes one nipple between her fingers and pinches, her hips bucking, body keening into V’s searing touches, moaning her name when a hand _finally_ moves down to undo Panam’s jeans and dips between her thighs.

 _“Fuck,_ V…”

“Maybe later,” V replies with a laugh, teasing Panam’s entrance with one finger while she presses her lips to the shell of Panam’s ear. “For now, I want to feel you. Just like this.”

 _Jesus,_ that sends a shiver jolting down Panam’s spine. Another jolt quickly follows that when V flicks her thumb over Panam’s clit and she muffles a yelp in her hand. She glares at V, who raises an eyebrow, threatens to pull her hand away—

 _“Don’t,”_ Panam chokes out, one hand shooting down to put V’s wrist in a vice grip, “you fucking _dare_ stop,” she growls, jaw clenched so tight.

V moans against slick skin, sliding two fingers through Panam’s slick folds and pressing and _curling._ Panam groans, tapering off into a whine when V’s teeth drags against the sensitive skin below her ear, back curling off of the bed ‘cause _God,_ she feels so fucking _good._

The tension in Panam’s body is even better, winding up more and more and more until she’s _so close._ She’s moaning V’s name, scrambling for any sort of purchase on her skin, digging her nails into the skin of V’s shoulders and _hoping_ that she leaves some long-lasting marks.

 _“Qué bella eres, muñeca, qué bella eres,”_ V purrs, adding a third finger inside Panam, the palm of her hand pressing deliciously against her clit, and she’s so aware of how focused V is, warm and hot and panting against Panam’s skin, but those gray eyes are watching every little reaction and cataloging each one, using each moan, each whine, each buck of Panam’s hips. 

She’s noting every reaction until Panam’s trembling against her, crying out as the tension in her core _snaps_ and she’s riding out her climax. V’s murmuring something in Spanish against her skin but Panam’s still trying to return from _that._ From _her,_ and she takes a hot minute to catch her breath.

V does too, breaking out of her trance, blinking and pulling away, breath shaky, rasping, her chest visibly rising and falling. “You okay?” She asks Panam, eyes tightening slightly with concern. “Need anything?”

“Some shut-eye, honestly,” Panam exhales, covering her eyes with one hand. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us, V. You get some sleep, too.”

“I will,” V replies, sliding off of Panam’s bed and standing, “Kind of want to shower, though.”

“Go ahead. I could sleep through the apocalypse right about now,” Panam mutters, adjusting herself on the mattress until she’s lying comfortably on her side. “G’night.”

“Night, Panam.”

V walks to the bathroom, stripping the rest of her clothes off before turning on the shower. She’s definitely _not_ trying to think about how gorgeous Panam was, how she definitely _didn’t_ expect her flirting to actually get her anywhere, and how she was totally _not_ going to think about that for the rest of the night and not sleep well at all.

Especially not when Johnny appears next to her in the bathroom, aviators on and a shit-eating grin on his lips. _“Well, well, well. How the fuck did’ja manage that one, V? I mean, I was there for the whole thing, but,_ **_wow._ ** _Nomads are usually pretty hard to wrangle like that, and you did it— well, did her— like you’ve done it thousands of times before.”_

 _That’s because I have, Johnny. Maybe not thousands, and maybe not with a nomad,_ V replies silently, letting her hair down before stepping into the shower, _but I’ve done it plenty of times. Shit, I’m about as surprised as you are, honestly._

 _“Yeah. Shame that it was just a fling,”_ Johnny sighs, shaking his head. _“She seems like a good one, really. Not often you get a girl with a pair like that. Shit, V,”_ he snorts, _“she topped you from the bottom.”_

“She—” V starts aloud but quickly clamps her mouth shut, choosing instead to glare at Johnny before continuing to rinse herself off. _She did not._

 _“I’ve got a head full of Panam orderin’ you around that says otherwise,”_ Johnny shrugs, glitching away when V tries to flick water at him. _“Hey! I might not be water-proof, be careful—”_

As if on cue, V’s vision starts to blur. “Urgh, _fuck,”_ she curses quietly, squeezing her eyes shut as all five senses go into overdrive. The water pelting her skin sounds like a fucking waterfall, boiling and white hot. It’s bright even when her eyes are closed, the sour taste on her tongue burns, and she coughs, hacks up a lung.

She tastes blood. Can’t breathe. Turns off the water and waits the malfunction out, manages deep breathes after a minute, slowly coaxing her heart rate down to normal. Once it passes, Johnny’s back and looks guiltier than ever. “‘S fine,” V says, voice barely above a whisper, “‘M’fine. _Shit,_ always hate it when that happens.”

_“You ‘n me both, kid. Your nose is bleeding, by the way.”_

Another quiet curse, and V’s turning the water on again to wash away the blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muñeca - Doll  
> Oye, tú y yo, los dos - Hey, you and me both  
> Qué bella eres, muñeca, qué bella eres - You're so beautiful, doll, you're so beautiful


	2. Just What We Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She also doesn’t expect Panam, pissed and— and crying, V realizes when a tear hits her cheek— still looking for any way to escape this situation, to crash her lips against V’s. In the shock, V loosens her grip on Panam’s wrists, those fevered hands move down, tearing at V’s jacket, her shirt.
> 
> If there was a time to think, now was one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Woohoo! I'm probably going to update this fic sporadically since it's almost finished, chapter 4 is long and chapter 5 is preplanned so it won't be too hard to put together. Mayhaps another update on Friday? Who knows!
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is angst-heavy and... yeah. Can't believe this is porn with plot when I initially just wanted smut. Damnit.
> 
> So! As always, any and all mistakes are my own, and I hope you enjoy!

The Aldecaldo camp. V didn't expect to have another reason to visit after asking for Scorpion and Mitch's help at Rocky Ridge. Still, the reason she's going now is not something she ever wanted to visit for. Night City always seems to have the cruelest things in store for its people. Especially those who get close to V. 

A thought that crushes her with even more guilt. Seeing the wreckage at the Kang Tao AV broke her. If she feels like that, then she can't imagine how it must've felt for Panam. Leagues worse, probably; one of her best friends, as well as the people he brought with him, dead at the scene. Except for one. Mitch, the one they managed to save.

One. Would one be enough for V to forgive herself for such a massive miscalculation? Probably not. Still, after every life she's managed to take away, V's gotten to keep one alive. What a pathetic thought to have, but it's the only mindset that's keeping her afloat right now. 

The only thing keeping her relatively stable after Anders Hellman told her that there isn't really a way for her to be saved. That the biochip was terminal, that she might as well just lie down and let Johnny take over her body.

_ “What is it like? To have a terrorist in your brain. Does he affect your actions? Has he taken over your body already without you having any way of stopping him, I wonder? So many possibilities, such a shame I do not have the tools or the time to study it thoroughly.” _

No need to study it, because V knows what’s happening: Johnny's killing V, V's dying because of Johnny, regardless of what the two of them actually want to happen. Her  _ precious _ little parasite who actually gives a shit about her, now. After three relic malfunctions, a near-death experience as soon as she walked out of that fucking motel room. Collapsing onto the ground, Johnny helping her up— which,  _ how?— _ and walking her to a table. Talking her through it, sharing his fears, what it was like experiencing death.

God.  _ That _ was a morbid, yet enlightening, conversation.

Death. Rogue said it when V first stepped into her booth. She’s leaving a trail of death in her wake.  _ “Chock that up to bad luck?” _

No. At this point, she might as well have the Reaper clinging to her skin. Jackie, T-Bug, Dexter DeShawn, and now Scorpion. Not including all of the people she's killed during gigs. 

What a fucking mess this is. While she should be worrying about the present, the  _ future, _ her mind is busy thinking about what she could've done better in the past. Lost in wondering if the outcome would ever change, if she could actually save any of the people that she's lost in the end.

Not like she has a time machine or anything, but her brain is hellbent on making her life a fucking mess before kicking her out. Seems like her fate's set in stone, too. No matter what she does or doesn't do, people are going to die because of this damn relic in her head, herself included. Johnny's influence, the dead Rockerboy who looms over her shoulder—

Or, he would. V's actually taller than him. 

Still, what a world she lives in. A world where a text from Mitch Anderson has her throwing her ass over Scorpion's bike—  _ a gift, it's yours, now, _ Panam said with so much pain in her eyes, as if it physically fucking harmed her to look at Scorpion's bike now that he was gone— and driving through Watson like a madman to get to the Badlands. 

Even though she should be meeting with Takemura about contacting Hanako, she’ll still find an excuse to help out her friend.

_ "Panam's in a tough spot after what happened to Scorpion. I think you could help her out, so when you get a chance, come to the Aldecaldo camp. We owe you for saving my life and keeping Panam safe, so you won't be treated as an outsider." _

Yeah, V might've saved his life, but she could've kept everyone safe if she just hadn't fucking been so stubborn on nabbing Hellman. What would Jackie think of her if he saw this shitshow, V wonders? Would he tear her to shreds, yell at her until she's a sobbing mess on the floor? No, that’s not Jackie. 

He’d find V already sobbing, already broken inside and out, trying to hide it from everyone else, and wrap her in his arms so tight, holding her as she weeps. Muttering,  _ "Lo sé, todo estará bien, V,” _ and rocking her back and forth as she grieves, sobbing and apologizing to the dead for her mistakes, for all her fuck-ups. 

He's one of the people that V would be apologizing to, though. In the Delamain trying to stem the bleeding, Jackie shaking his head, holding V's hands in his,  _ "No te preocupes, V; I'll… I’ll see you around." _ The life leaving his eyes, hands going limp, looking past V, his last breath leaving his lips.

V crying, shaking her head,  _ "Don't leave me, don't leave me hermano, don't go, I'm begging you," _ but he's already long gone, and she sobs herself into unconsciousness. Arriving at the No-Tell Motel feeling empty, so empty, because Jackie took so much with him when he died. Not even fully realizing the fact that he's gone, telling Delamain to send his body to Mama Welles, to the Coyote Cojo, his home, his people. Leaving the car, pelted by the rain, getting fucking soaked because she's moving too slow.

DeShawn snapping at her, spittle flying from his lips. "Bathroom. Clean up. You've got some blood on your face."

Jackie's blood, V's blood. Didn't matter then, doesn't matter now. He asked V to clean up then shot her in the fucking head, so there would've been blood either way. God, she wishes that she'd been the one to plant a bullet between his eyes. V hopes he's still rotting in that landfill.

She's supposed to be rotting in that landfill. How fortunate that she's out and about, dying slowly, dying again, while DeShawn's just... dead. 

She should mention that to Takemura. Since he's so hellbent on revenge, why didn't he let V get hers? Probably not enough time. Not when he practically gave Yorinobu a big middle finger when he deserted from his orders, losing the ability to use his implants when he cut his ties. Now they're both outcasts, though Takemura isn't on borrowed time like V is.

She takes a sharp turn, smells burnt rubber from behind her helmet. Whoops. She really needs to take better care of her tires, but now's not the time for that. It'll take her a couple more minutes to drive up to the Aldecaldo camp. Are they actually expecting her? Mitch didn't elaborate on a specific date, only said that she could help Panam out. 

Fat fucking chance. She's the reason Scorpion's dead, though Panam tried to blame herself that day. It's been a week since their little Kang Tao fuck-up, and both she and Panam are still reeling over what happened. Her plan seemed foolproof from V's point of view. She didn't expect that it would affect their ability to communicate— hell, she didn't even think about having to communicate with other nomads, especially from the Aldecaldos. 

Of  _ course  _ when a nomad sees a downed AV they go to it. The Aldecaldos are kind to anyone who isn't related to a corporation— or they could nab some scraps from the scene— and Scorpion thought that the AV was unmarked. Kang Tao's designs are miniscule, but...  _ fuck. _

Could she have warned them before she and Panam left the camp the day before? Something along the lines of, "Hey, by the way, Panam and I are planning on downing a Kang Tao AV sometime in the following days, so if you see an AV crashing to the ground, don't approach it! Or you might die!"

Foresight. If only she had it. Now, in hindsight, she should have done something like that. The Aldecaldos are Panam's family— obviously, even though she doesn't affiliate with them anymore, they're still letting her heal, letting her grieve over her best friend.

V needs to apologize for that. She's driving up to the camp, slowly braking until she's stopped beside a massive trailer, and someone's already jogging up to greet her. Though they did have their hand on the pistol at their side before they noticed the tagged bike.

"V!" She takes off her helmet to see that it's one of the vets that Panam had told her about, Cassidy. "Didn't expect you to be flyin' out here just from that text from Mitch. We, uh, we 'preciate it, really. How're you holdin' up?"

It's probably out of kindness that he asks, small talk before he gets into talking about their predicament with Panam. "I've been better, but I'm not here to talk about me. How is she doing?" She kicks out the leg to rest her motorcycle into the sand before moving off of it, following Cassidy as he walks quickly through the camp.

Some of the nomads still look at V like she's a stranger. While Mitch did say that she wouldn’t be treated as such, of course it wouldn't actually come to fruition. Especially when some of them probably blamed V for what happened. Which is completely understandable. If she was a part of their tribe and heard that a city-dweller got some of their family killed, s.he’d bash their skull in.

"She's been... rocky. Panam's been drownin' herself in work when she should still be restin'. The ricochet that she got hit by has healed well, but doctor's orders have her still on bedrest. Especially after what she went through. Havin' t' see all those good souls by that AV... she's been havin' nightmares. Barely slept at all in the past few days."

"The whole kit 'n kaboodle. Shit," V mutters under her breath. "And you think I can help her get out of this rut? How do you figure?"

"No idea, it wasn't my idea," Cassidy snorts, shrugging one shoulder. "Mitch thinks that you've got some sort of hold on the girl, so we're pullin' out all the stops. She's in here," he says, jutting his chin to the large tent with Panam's Thorn in it. "Workin' on her car day after day, 'n we can see how it's drainin' her. Even if you can't really help her, jus'... talk to 'er. We'd appreciate anythin' at this point."

V nods, sighing when Cassidy disappears from her side in seconds. Johnny quickly replaces him, arms crossed and one brow raised.  _ "Well. This is shitty of them, isn't it? Trying to rely on you, an outsider, to help them with their favorite little nomad girl. They should know that she won't be fixed just by a few magic words uttered from the lips of the mysterious city-girl," _ he scoffs, following V's gait as she walks toward the tent.  _ "You're actually gonna talk to her? You sure she won't, like, tear your damn head off or something?" _

_ I'm confident that she will if I misstep. So I just have to tread carefully, here, _ V thinks, both to herself and Johnny. God, if this isn't the worst job for her. 

"Mitch?" Panam calls to V from underneath her Thorn when she hears the sand crunching, "Or Carol— whatever, it doesn't matter. If you're here to tell me to take a break, I'm  _ fine. _ I'm closed to finished with tuning her up. Then I'll rest, or do whatever you want me to do."

"I'm not either of those people, fortunately," V answers after a moment, lips quirking when she hears Panam curse, fumbling with something that V can't see. "Panam? Are you okay?"

"Fuck, yeah. I'm fine— V, what are you doing here? Aren't you busy with stuff in the city?"

"I was, but a little birdie told me that they're worried about you," V replies, watching amusedly as Panam pushes herself out from under her Thorn, "and, for some reason, they thought that I could help."

"Mitch," Panam sneers, rolling her eyes. V walks over to her and offers her a hand, which Panam takes. "Honestly, they're worried over nothing. The way I'm acting now is no different from how I normally am, V, I assure you. But while you’re here, I do want to ask— are you alright?"

_ That's a loaded question, _ V thinks drily, but she gives Panam a hopefully convincing smile. "I'm fine, Panam. Just... been a rough week."

A scoff, but Johnny's reappeared next to Panam so V gets distracted.  _ "Yeah, rough's puttin' it lightly. You're fuckin' dyin', V. You sure you've got the time to spare to play therapist? I'm sayin' that she'll be fine, it'll just take longer than a fuckin' week for her to be peachy preem. So delta outta here and get back to the search for a cure!" _

V's eye twitches, and she feels the beginning of a headache digging its claws into her head.  _ I’m here, might as well talk to her, Johnny. Even if I can’t help. _

_ “Might as well,” _ Johnny scoffs, another sharp pang echoing from the nape of her neck to her head.  _ “One of these days, V, you’ll learn to listen to at least  _ **_some_ ** _ of the advice I give you.” _

He disappears after that, and V groans, thinking of a few creative curses and hoping that Johnny can hear them, wherever he’s hiding away to in her head. 

"V?" Panam tilts her head, and V’s surroundings tilt with her.  _ Of all the times for a relic malfunction. I swear to God, Johnny— _

"Sorry, Panam. Just a headache," V mutters, rubbing at her temples. "I'm fine though, really, just..."

She trails off as her headache divebombs, her surroundings spinning in a colorful mix of blues and reds. She catches herself before she falls— or, she thinks that she's the one that keeps herself from falling, but Panam's on her so quickly, by her side and eyes full of concern. 

"Hey, I’ve got you. Shit, V, that's not just a headache. C'mon, I'll take you to my tent, we need to get you to sit down and rest," Panam murmurs, wrapping her arm around V's waist to make sure she doesn't almost fall face-first into the sand again. "'Fine,' my ass. What was that about?"

"Ah, you know. Stress," V replies, throat suddenly very dry. She coughs, cringing when that familiar taste of blood coats her tongue. "Motherfucker—"  _ Johnny, what the fuck. Do I need to start taking the blockers for these fucking things to stop? _

Johnny appears as Panam sets V down on her cot.  _ "Fuck if I know, choom. All I know is that you're actually getting Panam away from her endless workload to take care of you. Ain't that somethin'," _ he quips, arms crossed as he watches Panam fret over V.

"V?! There's blood on your—"

"Yeah, I know. Happens sometimes, you get used to it after a while," V lies, wiping the blood from her lips. "Now that we're both in here and exhausted to our bones, take a seat. You wouldn't leave a sick patient all by her lonesome, now, would you?"

Panam's gaze darkens, but V smiles at her, flutters her eyelashes to further prove her point.  _ Small victories, _ V thinks, as Panam sighs and leans on her desk. "You're lucky I like you. So?"

V blinks. "So...? What?"

"What's goin' on with you? There's no way that you're not... dying, or something, if you're coughing up blood like that. So what's happening?"

_ Uh oh. _ She glances to the side, to Johnny, who lifts his hands up in a,  _ "Don't rely on me on this," _ gesture, before disappearing when V blinks. Asshole. 

Now, though, she has to come up with something. A way to turn the conversation away from her, something, anything—

"It's nothing, Panam, really. I've got it under control, it's just... taking a while—"

"Oh, bullshit," she interrupts, crossing her arms. "What sort of condition do you have 'under control' when you're walking around and looking like a zombie? When we were—" Panam stops herself, a blush dusting her cheeks before she continues, "—last I saw you, you seemed fine. What happened between then and now?"

"A week," V answers sarcastically, unfazed by Panam's glare. "No, but seriously. That's all I can say about it, Pan. Time makes my condition worse. Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine now,” she waves a hand dismissively. “I’m not here to talk about me. Hell, if we’re gonna talk about zombies,  _ you _ look like you could pass out any second, now.”

Panam starts to tap her foot in the sand, avoiding V’s gaze with a scowl on her lips. “Christ, you’re starting to sound just like Mitch. If you’re going to rip me like they have, then—”

“I’m not, Panam. I’m worried. When I—” V purses her lips, tries to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. “When I lost my best friend, I did the same thing you are now. Working myself to the bone, trying to do something,  _ anything _ to distract me from acknowledging the fact that he’s actually gone. Panam, you  _ have _ to give yourself that time to grieve.”

Stuck in her apartment, waiting for her wounds to heal. Trying to mute her thoughts with any alcohol she could find, scrolling through the net. Taking apart every single gun she owned and putting them back together, just to take them apart again and repeat the process eternally. Taking blockers to mute the parasite in her head.

She couldn’t do much else. Misty would visit, have that sad smile on her face, full of sympathy that she didn’t have to speak of aloud, because just seeing her eyes tighten when she looked at V— so broken, so empty— was enough for V to want to cry.

She didn’t. Not until the ofrenda. That was the last straw.

There’s silence, tense and uncomfortable. V feels another headache coming on— not another relic malfunction, just a fucking headache. “Panam—”

“Don’t,” she sighs, digging her nails into the fabric of her one-piece. “I get what you’re saying—”

“Do you? Because it sounds to me like you’re still raring to argue,” V interrupts, an edge to her voice that makes her wince internally. “I’m not about to go in circles with you, Pan. You need to give yourself a break—”

“I get it! Fuck, just— just shut  _ up,” _ Panam snaps, pushing herself off of her desk. “I’ve told Mitch, I’ve told Carol, I’ve told Cassidy, and  _ now _ I have to tell  _ you. _ I. Am.  _ Fine—” _

_ “Por el amor de Dios, _ you are  _ not _ fine,” V growls, pushing herself up off of Panam’s cot, “Listen to yourself! You are so  _ desperately _ trying to come up with  _ any _ excuse to deny yourself from grieving!”

“And what is so wrong with that?!” Panam’s yelling now, pacing to and fro in the small confines of her tent, “What am I supposed to do, just stop and bawl my fucking eyes out? I’m not—”

“That is  _ exactly _ what you’re supposed to do,” V interjects, “Or just stop  _ drowning _ yourself in work. When was the last time you slept?”

“I could ask the same of you! When was the last time you actually rested, V?” Panam stops in her pacing to walk toward V, jutting a finger into V’s chest.

“Do  _ not _ change the subject, Panam,” V warns, voice  _ dangerously _ low. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything, but now I’m not leaving until I convince you to rest.”

“Really? You’re doing a piss-poor job of that.”

“It’s keeping you from hiding underneath your Thorn. Small victories, Panam.” She’s smug, a lot more than she should be. 

Which, of course, bites her in the ass when Panam spins on her heel and moves to leave her tent. V’s grabbing her wrist and yanking before she can really think about it, pulling her back in and shoving her toward her bed. Panam growls in frustration, yanking V with her.

They’re both angry, both fucking  _ livid, _ and V doesn’t know who pushes and who pulls afterward but they’re wrestling each other, trying to get the other onto the bed. V’s boots aren’t made for the sand so she slips and falls back, but her grip on Panam’s is tight so they both end up falling.

“Let  _ go _ of me,” Panam hisses, trying to yank her wrists out of V’s hands. She’s vicious but she’s losing steam quickly. V’s confident that Panam’s barely slept at all in the past forty-eight hours, probably more. 

So she waits, she waits through her anger, trying to extinguish it as she conjures up whatever patience for Panam she has left. It’s certainly not her best moment, and she didn’t expect the next time she was in a bed with Panam to be like this. Nothing so volatile, devoid of care.

She also doesn’t expect Panam, pissed and— and  _ crying, _ V realizes when a tear hits her cheek— and still looking for any way to escape this situation, to crash her lips against V’s. In the shock, V loosens her grip on Panam’s wrists, those fevered hands move down, tearing at V’s jacket, her shirt.

If there was a time to think, now was one of them. 

V, though, stupid and  _ understanding _ of the feelings ruminating in Panam, lets her jacket be thrown into the sand, same with her shirt. The grief of losing so many people so close to you does terrifying things to the psyche, bending and molding it into a sick amalgamation of agony. So she willfully surrenders to Panam. They don’t speak, don’t joke and flirt like they did last time, because this is  _ nothing _ like last time.

Panam is rough but she’s  _ watching _ V, returning the favor, even with glistening, bloodshot eyes. She’s pulling V apart at the seams until she’s spilling curse after curse in Spanish. When a burning hand slips between her thighs and presses  _ down _ and  _ in _ and  _ up, _ V’s biting her lip so hard in an effort to be quiet that she tastes blood again.

It’s a wonder that no one checks up on them, after they were screaming at each other just a few minutes ago. Now they’re silent, V whimpering into Panam’s skin as she comes down from being unraveled so fucking quickly, nails digging into the skin of Panam’s shoulders, her name on V’s lips because  _ that _ was a lot.

“Panam—”

“Let’s… not talk.” Panam interrupts quietly. The tone in her voice is enough for V to agree, to try and soothe the definite scratches that she left on Panam’s back. Slowly but surely, Panam slowly lets herself collapse, lets V hold her as she breaks down, every emotion from the last week hitting her like a fucking truck. She cries silently, her shaky breaths and sniffles the only telltale signs of her actually shedding any tears.

Scorpion was there for her. For so much. He was the one that Panam  _ really _ confided in, and he was like a brother to Panam. A caring older brother. Her last fucking words to him were,  _ “Well. I’m off.” _

Fucking pathetic. And they’d argued before that, too. Panam couldn’t even apologize for snapping at him, and now she’ll never have the chance to. At least she can apologize to Mitch. But that’ll come later. For now, she’s fucking exhausted. Slowly but surely, sleep starts to take her, and she loses consciousness while listening to V’s heartbeat.

V notices the change in Panam’s breathing and sighs, relieved.  _ Johnny. Did I do okay? Was that— _

_ “The right thing to do in that situation? Fuck if I know,” _ Johnny replies nonchalantly, shrugging as he appears in V’s vision.  _ “I mean, seems fine to me. Got her to rest, got her to cry. That’s what they asked of you, right?” _

_ Right, _ V agrees, albeit hesitantly.  _ I just… I wasn’t expecting a second time. _

_ “I don’t think either of you were. Shit happens.” _ He shrugs again, glitching to rest some of his weight on Panam’s desk.  _ “Though, if I were you, I’d stop these little flukes of yours. I can already tell that you’re catching feelings, V.” _

_ Really? I thought it was just the relic fucking with me. _

_ “Fuck. You really are an idiot. It’s pretty obvious to me ‘n where I’m standin’. Not that I blame you. She’s a good one.” _ In their shared mind, V catches glimpses of a younger Johnny with a group of nomads, one in particular standing out to her. The memory is gone before V can make heads or tails of it, though.  _ “Just… focus on survivin’, V. That’s our top priority, right now. We on the same page?” _

_ Yeah.  _ V listens to Panam’s soft breathing, her body so warm, so comfortable against V’s.  _ Yeah, I hear you loud and clear. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lo sé, todo estará bien - I know, everything will be alright  
> No te preocupes - Don't worry  
> Hermano - brother  
> Por el amor de Dios - for the love of God
> 
> I've definitely discussed how trauma can get you to do some weird shit with people on Discord (Like how Judy went from talking about how the situation in Clouds was so fucked and then she was like, "SpEAKING of getting fucked." Then the romance scene happened. I wondered what would happen if there was a scene like that with Panam after what happened to Scorpion.
> 
> (But to quote one of my friends, "weird that they’re toasting to Scor when all he did was just take a lil nap." Because he's fine. Nothing bad happened to him. He just played dead and then went back to the Aldecaldos camp he's fine you guys--)
> 
> Next chapter: The sandstorm scene we all wanted but didn't get with a side of angst! Until next time.


	3. Tell Me You Can Take it Slowly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panam chuckles, and V is suddenly very aware of the fact that her hand is on Panam's leg. All it would take is moving it up, leaning toward Panam and undoing the buckles of her harness, sliding her hand between her legs. "You know, V," Panam says, knocking V out of her thoughts, "I do think I owe you just a little more. For saving Saul."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sandstorm scene that we all deserved but didn't get. And also angst at the end because that's my brand. Hope you enjoy!

Goddamn, if nothing in V's life is every that fucking easy.

Panam calls her a few days after their second fluke, which they both have agreed on never speaking of. They were both emotional and one thing led to another, and it won't happen again. Which V quickly agreed to, maybe too quickly, because the look on Johnny's face when she hesitated for only a second was one that burned its way into V's brain.

He probably knows a thing or two about trying to date a nomad. V hasn't been able to see his memories of when he rode with a family in the Badlands, probably across the country, but maybe it's better this way. He holds those memories near and dear to his heart, which is a surprising thing for Johnny, of all people. V knows from Alt that he's altered some of his own memories while he was locked up in Mikoshi for that half-century, which was obvious when Morgan Blackhand was unceremoniously erased from the Arasaka Headquarters bombing.

For a while, V just thought that what she learned from history was wrong. But that thought was quickly remedied when she was in cyberspace with Alt and Johnny, and she very kindly informed— well, more like reminded— V that Johnny's a narcissist, and an egotistical bastard.

Well, he used to be. After their heartfelt conversation at the Pistis Sophia— the oil fields, too— she can tell that her influence on Johnny has been a good one. Which is damn surprising, considering how stubborn he was about how he was changing V, turning her into a mini-terrorist, rather than V turning him into a better person.

Better-ish, at least. She's not exactly a prime example of someone with a sparkling record; neither of them are. Not when she used to be a corpo-rat, working for Arasaka and doing Jenkins' dirty work without a single argument, trying not to think too hard about the lives she was destroying, regardless of whether or not they deserved it. Eventually, V got used to the whole "get dirt on these people and then blackmail them with it" thing. If she hadn't, then she probably would've combusted, crumpled underneath the guilt of every single atrocity she'd committed while working underneath Jenkins.

Thinking about him, about Arasaka, leaves a bitter taste in V's mouth. How easily Jenkins sent her away on a death sentence, discussing flatlining Susan Abernathy in his office which could've very easily been bugged. Going to Lizzie's, sitting with Jackie and having him try to talk her out of the job.

 _Un pacto con el Diablo,_ he'd said. As usual, Jackie had been right, too. He'd been there when V was supposed to die by the hands of Abernathy's goons. By being there, he saved V's life, and gave her an opportunity to start again. A fresh start. "Your new life? It starts now, _chica."_

Who knew that, in a meager six months, he life would end? A new beginning, an end, and a morbid beginning as a dead woman walking. What a mess. An utter shitshow. 

Night City's taken how much from her in such a short span of time, and it's gluttony is seemingly fucking insatiable. It's taking life after life, opportunity after opportunity, swallowing them and spitting them out for the wealthy to take advantage of. Taking her life— shit, took her life already— and now?

Now another fucking person is in danger. Someone important. Not to her, maybe, but to someone who _is_ important to her.

Johnny would hate that thought if he heard it. _Thought you said that we were on the same page,_ he might say, _that you wouldn't be falling even harder for your nomad girl. Don't you get it, V? You can't hold a girl like her down._

Yeah, no shit. But she can certainly dream.

Besides, she wouldn't be sneaking around in a fucking Raffen Shiv base for a friend. Some who she wants to keep by her side as just a friend. Not when she has to jump from the rafters in the warehouse and fall on top of a Shiv, pressing her silenced pistol to his head and pulling the trigger when it's right up against his temple, finally letting out a breath of relief when the warehouse is fucking empty.

There's still two in the basement, but besides that...

She's wiped the place clean. Doesn't really remember much of it, was sort of on autopilot. It's similar to the stealth gigs that she's done before: Regina asked her to free someone being held by the Tyger Claws, elaborated on how she would appreciate the subtlety. V got a hefty bonus when she managed to get through the place without raising any alarms. 

Now she's going through the motions again, except she's zeroing any and every Shiv that she comes across. She knows damn well that Panam would do the same if she had the chance. It's better this way— trying to take all of these _assholes_ at once would not end well, so V does what she does best: Meld into the shadows, pick each Raffen off individually, hide their body, then ghost. Rinse and repeat until the place is all cleaned up.

The two remaining in the basement are easy pickings, too. She doesn't bother hiding them, simply knowing that she's wasted enough time killing every Shiv in the surrounding area when her main mission was to save Saul. So she pushes past them, past the woman they gutted on that surgical table, down the stairs and to her damsel in distress.

He's battered pretty badly, though the SuperJet gets him up and moving well enough for them to haul ass through the vents and to Panam, whose leg is bouncing with concern, eyes tight and her grip on the wheel even tighter as Saul slides into the back of the van, V quick to follow.

The sandstorm is a blessing of a sort, thought V never wanted to experience one in her lifetime. She gets pelted with sand as they run to shelter at the abandoned farm, and gets the same treatment when she goes outside to try and turn on the heat for Saul.

Again, not something she would do for _just_ a friend. 

This whole fucking event is unknown territory, being with Panam and Saul— two nomads— and V never expected to get close to fucking _nomads_. Not when she's a city-dweller through and through. Waiting out a sandstorm in the Badlands, drinking centuries-old whiskey while sitting on the couch with Panam, a comfortable silence blossoming between the two of them. 

It's a welcome change compared to the argument that almost started between her and Saul. V didn't really want to interrupt, but she could tell that both Panam and Saul were exhausted— knowing Panam, she probably hasn't rested at all ever since Saul got kidnapped.

Yet again, V came to the rescue, and yet again, they're left in a situation that could lead somewhere very, very bad. Not that V would be against it, but if she and Panam have another fluke, Johnny would be pissed with her. She doesn't need that right now, because when Johnny's high-strung, there's a higher chance of a relic malfunction. 

They've been getting worse too; headaches that feel like someone's repeatedly bashing her head in with a baseball bat and simultaneously shooting her where the relic is slotted into her neck. That and she coughs up blood.

The last time that happened when Panam was around, it somehow led to them sleeping together. A welcome surprise, but still.

Her hypothesis as of right now is this: If she keeps Johnny happy, then the relic won't malfunction. This connects to her second theory: If she doesn't have sex with Panam, then Johnny will stay relatively happy. 

It’s… a stupid excuse to keep her and Panam separated. All because Johnny doesn’t want to third wheel, she guesses. Poor guy. Poor _parasite,_ who got his heart broken by a nomad and is petty about it. Even though V wants to throw caution to the wind, she wants to keep Johnny in a good mood. 

So, to save both herself and Panam from a world of hurt, V steels her resolve in making sure that there won't be a third time.

A puff of laughter breaks the silence that grew between them, and V turns to look at Panam, her side illuminated by the orange glow of the radiator, and somehow her resolve from a few seconds ago shatters. "What's so funny?" V hears herself ask, trying to distract herself from the thought of how easy it would be to take Panam like this, right here, with Saul sleeping soundly in the other room.

"Just realized. I rarely sleep with a roof overhead, yet this'll be the second time with you." Panam shifts on the couch, looking at the radiator, the papers strewn about on the floor. "When you're on the road day into night into day, your butt basically fusing with your seat, you forget what it's like."

"Huh. This any better than sleeping in your Thorn?" V asks, laughing when Panam moves her leg to kick V in the side. "Just an innocent question, Pan. No need to get violent."

Panam scoffs, rolls her eyes, but there's a glimmer of amusement in them. "Fuck you. But... V." Her tone quickly changes and V blinks, tries not to make the sudden tensing in her shoulders too obvious. "Thank you. For doing this. I know I offered you my rifle, but you could've easily gotten hurt trying to save Saul. It was just you versus dozens of Raffen and I— I really should've thought this through more than I did, but—"

V shakes her head, places a hand on Panam's leg. "Hey. Don't mention it, okay? You're a good choom, Pan. I just did what any— well. Maybe not any, but... I owe you. You've helped me a lot more than you think, and I just wanted to repay the favor."

"Repaying favors, is that what it's called?" Her voice is light, smug as she looks at V, and she knows exactly what Panam is insinuating. "Aren't we even?"

That gets V's cheeks to warm, and she knows it's not from the radiator. "I... I suppose we're even, yeah." _Self-control, self-control. Fuck. Fuck!_

Panam chuckles, and V is suddenly very aware of the fact that her hand is on Panam's leg. All it would take is moving it up, leaning toward Panam and undoing the buckles of her harness, sliding her hand between her legs. "You know, V," Panam says, knocking V out of her thoughts, "I do think I owe you _just_ a little more. For saving Saul."

 _Fuck._ She's really making this whole not-going-to-let-this-happen-a-third-time thing hard. "Pan," she mutters, breath hitching when Panam shifts again, closing the distance between herself and V. "Aren't— won't Saul hear?"

"After a day like that, he's sleeping like a log," Panam murmurs, but she does stop, leaning back to look at V, eyebrows knitted with concern. "Are we— is this not...?" 

She can hear Johnny yelling at her already. He's silent, now, which is surprising. V expected him to take this opportunity by the head, tear V to shreds for not listening to him. She takes a moment, breathes, thinks. 

Weighs the pros and the cons and—

And fuck it, she thinks, pulling Panam in close and kissing her hard. She doesn't know how much time she has left, doesn't _want_ to know her expiration date, but she knows that she’s cutting it close. So she lets Panam take her again, lets Panam straddle her waist and press herself to V, moaning against her lips. Life is short and if Panam wants her like this then she'd be a fucking fool _not_ to take the opportunity. 

Not when there's a high chance that she won't get it again. So she'll try to shove those feelings for Panam down, deep down so they never see the light of day, because this is too good to risk fucking things up. Too good, when Panam drags her teeth against the side of V's neck, one hand tangled in V's hand while the other is focused on teasing V. Brushing her fingers over V's chest, featherlight touches and V has to _beg_ for her to move faster, a whimper against Panam's jacket. 

She does, moving just enough off of V to deftly undo the button on her pants, slipping her hand in them and muffling V's moan with her lips. V feels her smile against her skin, kiss-swollen lips hot against her throat as she winds V up, her fingers curling, thumb brushing against her clit. Again, she's holding on to Panam for dear life, muffling her moans while Panam's chuckling. "You can breathe, you know," she mutters, curling her fingers in a way that has V gasping, whimpering, cursing. "I'm a little scared you might suffocate, trying to keep quiet like this."

"Well—" V cuts herself off with a downright embarrassing mewl, high pitched and strangled when it leaves her throat. _"La madre que te parió,_ you are _such_ a bitch," she growls, glaring at Panam when she just laughs more, but she can't hold that anger forever, especially not when Panam adds a second finger inside of her and V's hips are bucking, grinding against Panam's hand until she throws her head back and moans, a jumble of curses and Panam's name on her lips as she orgasms. 

Panam's coaxing her down with a few more curls of her fingers, her mouth hot against V's skin. Then she's kissing V, so softly, and V realizes that this is the first time out of the three that neither of them were intoxicated or beyond fucking pissed with each other. So there wasn't any real excuse for this to happen over than the two of them just... wanting each other. 

Fuck. That doesn't help in V trying to shove her feelings into the deepest pits of her mind. "Now that you've had your fun," V breathes, still half-glaring at Panam, who looks so damn pleased with herself, "we should sleep. I, personally, am fucking exhausted."

"I'd be surprised if you weren't," Panam hums, pulling away slightly to lay down on the couch. She looks at V, raises an eyebrow. Then opens her arms, gesturing for V to join her. "Come on. You sleep like that and you're going to have the worst crick in your neck when you wake up. Not about to have you blaming me for a sore neck on top of sore legs."

V snorts, shaking her head incredulously before leaning down, resting her head in the crook of Panam's neck. "You're gonna get hot, you know."

"Yeah, well. Better than freezing to death in the middle of a sandstorm, V," Panam shrugs, exhaustion already coating her voice. "Might actually manage to get some shuteye during this damn thing." She yawns, and V laughs, wrapping her arms around Panam's waist. "Night, V."

Which, yeah. She would fall asleep if it weren't for the sudden appearance of blue zeroes and ones in V's periphery, and she looks at Johnny, who's sitting on the corner of the coffee table in front of her. _"Really. Really, V, we literally talked about this. But y’know what. I’ll do just as Saul did. We’ll table this. You’re exhausted. I’ll talk your ear off later.”_

 _Thanks._ V yawns, nuzzling closer to Panam. Sleep finds her quickly, taking ahold of V and giving her rest without nightmares.

* * *

Panam’s the first one to wake up, stirring when she hears the creak of floorboards down the hall. It takes her a moment to remember where she is, why she’s sleeping on a couch with someone on top of her. She cracks an eye open and sees Saul looking at her fondly before walking to the front door and stepping out onto the porch, fishing his phone out of his pocket before the door closes behind him.

V shifts on top of Panam, groaning and mumbling something that Panam doesn’t quite catch. “Hm?”

“Ugh, _estoy demasiado cansado para esta—_ the time. What time is it?” V sighs, pushing herself up into a sitting position. “Feels too damn early.”

“It’s five in the morning, V,” Panam answers, lips quirking at the adorable wrinkle of V’s nose. She pushes herself up and off the couch, stretching before looking back at V, who’s slowly but surely waking up. “You don’t have to force yourself to get up, you know.”

Her response is a slow blink and a long sigh. V glances to the side, nose scrunching again as she seemingly glares at _something._ She scoffs, shaking her head as she stands up. “Well, I’m awake now. _Hijo de puta,”_ V curses, running a hand through her hair. She pauses mid-way though, quickly looking at Panam and adding, “That— that wasn’t pointed at you. Sorry.”

“No worries. Saul’s probably calling the tribe, so I’ll be heading out soon. Slept like a puppy, I did,” she grins, nudging V in the side. “How about you? Sleep well?”

V hums, rolling her shoulders. Looks at Panam with a raised eyebrow. “Pan.”

 _Oh. Right._ V doesn’t have to say any more about that, and Panam looks away, face warming. “V, I—”

“No need to apologize. Didn’t exactly stop you the last time, remember?” She brushes past Panam, turning her head to glare at another spot in the room. After a tense moment, V sighs. “But… we should probably stop having these flings. I’ve— well. We should stop while we’re ahead.” V keeps her tone light.

Panam musters up the same through the hollow pang in her chest. “Alright. I will say, it was good while it lasted.” She follows V outside, sits down with her on the porch steps. Reminds herself to be casual, to be normal about this, about _them._ What they are.

Because V’s right. They’re just friends. 

Still, _damn_ if it doesn’t sting a little.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” V scoffs, voice devoid of any malice. Her profile is highlighted by the rising sun, silver hair painted with gold, gray eyes a glowing orange. She softens when she adds, “You’re a good friend, Pan. I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

 _It was doing quite the opposite, honestly,_ Panam thinks of responding, but scolds herself internally. “Same here, V. I’m glad we met, you know. Done a lot for me these past few weeks. I really do appreciate it all.”

“Don’t start getting all sentimental on me, gonk.” 

“Fuck you,” Panam retorts, bumping V with her leg, and they share a laugh. When Cassidy and Teddy drive up to them. They greet Panam and V with curt nods before walking over to Saul, who’s leaned up against the van they’d abandoned during the sandstorm.

“I’ll be heading out, then. Those Raffen Shiv, they wanted _everything,_ like Saul said. So we’ll have to do some recon.” Panam grunts as she stands, then gestures for V to follow her with a jut of her chin. When they’re walking together, Panam continues, “I have another plan in the works— one Saul will _definitely_ not approve of, but I’m not searching for his approval. Not anymore, at least. Would you be willing to help me if I ask you?”

“Do you even have to ask? I’ve already thrown myself into _multiple_ Raffen-infested corners of the Badlands for you and the Aldecaldos. Of course I’ll help you, Pan,” V says with a smile, bumping her shoulder against Panam’s. “Give me a call and I’ll be on my way, alright?”

They’re both smiling, and Panam pulls V into a tight hug before throwing a leg over her motorcycle. “Thank you, V. And remember, I’m indebted.”

Johnny appears as Panam drives away, leaning on the motorcycle that remains. _“Right. Still gonna curse me out in Spanish, or can we have this conversation, now?”_

 _Honestly? There’s no need,_ V retorts, crossing her arms as she glares at Johnny. _I told her. We talked. We agreed that the flings would stop. What else is there to talk about?_

 _“The fact that that conversation was flimsy as fuck. I’ll bet you that the next time Panam gives you a ring on the holo, the two of you are gonna end up breaking that shallow agreement of yours. But what do I know?”_ Another flicker of Johnny’s memories, wind whipping his hair against his face, head thrown back in laughter. Content, _overjoyed,_ that warm feeling spreading from his heart to the rest of his body—

_Johnny, I get it. You rode with nomads, you fell in love with one of them, and now you’re fucking bitter about it; but you said it yourself. Panam’s a good one. What’s so wrong with me falling for her?_

_“Oh, I don’t know,”_ Johnny drawls with a roll of his eyes, _“the fact that you’re dying? A hair’s breadth away from flatlining, at this point.”_

 _You’re being dramatic. I don’t get it. I know if you were the one in control, if you were the one on a timer, then you would say fuck it and chase her. Hell, you_ **_like_ ** _Panam! Johnny, I just…_ V sighs, digging her nails into the flesh of her arms. She takes another breath to try and relax, extinguishing her growing frustrations. _One good thing. I want one good thing, and Panam is that. You understand, right?_

Johnny takes a moment to respond, lips pursing. He taps his foot against unmoving sand. _“I do understand, V. But I still don’t agree with it. Fuck, this conversation isn’t going to go anywhere, we’re both too fuckin’ stubborn. Let’s just get drivin’ to meet Takemura, I’m starting to tire of these dusty dunes.”_

On that, they both agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Translation:  
> La madre que te parió - Motherfucker  
> estoy demasiado cansado para esta - I'm too tired for this
> 
> Thanks for reading as always. This fic is sort of getting out of hand so I had to add an extra chapter (or chapter 4 would've been around 12k and no one wants to read through all of that. At least I wouldn't want to). I'll have the rest uploaded by next week! Until next time~


	4. I Give You Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You… had someone?” She knows what that question entails. The deeper, double meaning. Relationship or friendship? Or maybe V’s just looking too deep into Panam’s words.
> 
> “A friend. Brother, really— my hermano. Jacquito Welles, though he preferred Jackie. You would’ve liked him, I think.” She can imagine it quite easily, really; Jackie and Panam bonding over alcohol, sharing stories of their adventures. Panam mentioning how she’d smuggled the deputy finance director of Kaukaz, and Jackie losing his shit.
> 
> Jackie going to the Aldecaldos camp with her to visit Panam, and his dumbass asking Carol about her Valentino tattoo. Singing while Cassidy plays his guitar, sharing his stories at the campfire with a beer in hand, definitely too drunk to be standing so close to an open fire.
> 
> “Jackie. I’ll remember that,” Panam hums, and the rest of the drive is silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

While V hates admitting when she's wrong,  _ especially _ when if involves Johnny being right, she's definitely lost this battle. Panam calls her two days after the sandstorm, greeting V warmly, though her eyes showed that she was troubled about something or another. "I presume you're not calling just to check up on me, Panam," V starts, already making her way to her motorcycle. 

Panam laughs once, a puff of laughter in V's hearing implants. "It's... any other time, I would, V, but I have a problem. Is your offer still on the table?"

"Didn't I say to give me a call when you needed help?" V replies smoothly, ignoring the sudden appearance of icy blue binary in her periphery. "Just tell me what you need me to do, Pan, and I'll do it."

Okay, yeah, she worded it like that to get under Johnny's artificial skin. It does, too, with the way that he bristles slightly. The trade means a sharp pain stabbing her where the biochip is, though, and she hisses. Glares at Johnny, who looks downright pleased. V hopes that he can see the middle finger that she's giving him in her head.

"Careful, V. You can't know what I'd wish for," Panam answers after a moment, and V's breath hitches at the low tone of her voice. "But that's not what I'm calling for. Can you come to the camp? It would be better to—"

"Another gripe with Saul?" V inquires, chuckling when Panam cringes. "Wow. Thought you rejoined the family, buried the hatchet with him?"

"Yes, but it's not like I  _ want _ to continue like this— ugh, just come to the camp. It'll be easier to explain in person. You are coming, right?" Panam asks, voice unsure. "If you're busy, then— "

"Not busy. Saddling up to come your way now. Be there in an hour," she interrupts, grabbing her motorcycle helmet and fastening it. Johnny's still looking at her with that disapproving look as she throws a leg over her bike, revving the engine and starting her drive to the Aldecaldo camp. "You sure you'll survive without killing anyone, or do I need to bypass a few traffic laws to get there a little faster?"

That gets a genuine laugh from Panam, and a warm feeling blooms in V's stomach. "Fuck off. Don't drive recklessly, especially in the city. It's terrible trying to get  _ anywhere _ in that wretched place, I swear."

"Sounds like the nomad in you is complaining about the city," V teases, passing a few cars and  _ definitely _ driving on the wrong side of the road. She knows how to drive responsibly, but now's not the time for following rules. Besides, an hour is much too long for V's tastes, and, with the right shortcuts, she'll be able to cut that driving time by a quarter, tops. "I'm sure you don't miss it, now that you're back with your family."

Panam hums, looking off to the side. She seems to be looking at something she likes, because a smile slowly starts to blossom on her lips. "No, I don't miss it at all. The cold concrete, all of the tall buildings... it's not something I'll ever get used to, I don't think. For almost all my life I've known the massive expanse of desert as my home, being able to drive freely— well,  _ relatively _ free— around the dunes. Being in Night City, I..."

"Felt trapped?" V suggests, swerving past a Quadra that honks at her quite aggressively, but the wind quickly drowns that sound out. "I understand, at least to a degree. The city does get suffocating after a while, especially when you don't exactly enjoy being in it." Arasaka logos everywhere, haunting her, mocking her. From being counterintel for Jenkins, to when she was dropped like a fucking toy. Almost flatlined, but Jackie was her saving grace, her Hail Mary. 

Then Konpeki Plaza happened. Arasaka.  _ Always _ Arasaka destroying things for her, even after so long. Blowing up their headquarters didn't do much, and she sacrificed her life in the process— 

V slams on the brakes, blood running cold. She drives to the side of the road, tries to understand what the  _ fuck _ her brain just did to her. Those were Johnny's memories. Intermingled with her at this point, she supposes, with how she could barely find the fine line between hers and his. Johnny appears next to her, eyes full of concern, of guilt. 

"V? You alright?" Panam asks, and  _ right, _ she's still on a call with Panam. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

She laughs drily, shaking her head at Johnny,  _ Later, not right now, _ then she's pushing off again, trying not to lose herself in reminiscing so  _ that _ doesn't happen again. "A ghost, sure. But I'm fine. So, did I hit the nail on the head? NC made you feel trapped, suffocated?"

"Claustrophobic," Panam agrees. "Could never stay in the city too long before having to go for a drive out to the Badlands. Driving along I-80, driving  _ anywhere _ that doesn't lead to those skyscrapers and neon holo-banners."

"They're so tacky, aren't they?" V chuckles, passing one of the Megabuildings that has a giant board on the side. "All the same ads repeating over and over again. Starts to get boring to look at, after a while. But there are parts of Night City that still manage to take my breath away. Like in Japantown. The holograms there are  _ gorgeous _ at night."

"Oh? Then maybe I should go there, one of these days. Or we could go together, since you know the area much better than I do, pretty girl." The petname slips so effortlessly from Panam's lips, and V wills herself not to blush. Panam looks to the side again and groans before looking back at V. "Hey, while I'd love to keep you company while you're driving to camp, I've got to go. See you soon, V."

"See you," she replies, and Panam ends the call.  _ Johnny. _ It's almost immediate, the panic that sets in after Panam's gone, because now she really has time to think about that mixing of their memories.  _ Johnny, what was that? _

_ "I don't know, V. I really wish I knew. As far as I can tell, it wasn't good. Might start happening more often," _ Johnny replies, a heavy guilt weighing his words down.  _ "You can't keep putting off meeting Hanako forever, V. I hate to say it, but right now? She's your only hope of finding a way into Mikoshi." _

_ Right, right, you hate anyone with a corporate affiliation, I get it. I just... this is the last thing I'll do, alright? I promise, and I'll actually keep this one. _

_ "Sure you will, V. If she asks you to do anything else for her, will you actually be able to say no? Or will you let her drag you around like a dog?" _ V can see Johnny raising an eyebrow at her, crossing his arms in that disapproving way. He rarely— if  _ ever— _ actually agrees with something that V does. He supported nabbing Hellman with Panam, downing the Kang Tao transport, the works. They do have their moments, but they're rare.

They've been occurring more as of recently, since they've been connected for so long. Still, Johnny is stubborn, and V is just the same. If not worse, considering how much they've been arguing over Panam. And her childish rebellious streak with doing the complete opposite of what Johnny wants from her:  _ Not _ falling harder for Panam. 

He should understand what it's like to fall for someone like Panam. Even then, the heart wants what it wants, and if V is falling for someone that's nearly unattainable, then she'll hold onto those feelings regardless of the ending circumstances. If she dies before she can get to Mikoshi, then she'll still have those feelings for Panam. If she somehow  _ survives _ — which has such a little chance of happening that V doesn't have high hopes at all— then she might try to do things differently. If she still has the chance, if she's still friends with Panam after whatever goes down at Mikoshi. 

Hopefully she won't be on a timer after all of this. It's a shitty way to live. 

_ Johnny— _

_ "Oh, Don't start," _ he growls, and V rolls her eyes, taking a sharp right turn.  _ "We've been over it, V: I'm getting wiped no matter what happens, no matter what the end-game is. Even if Alt thinks it's better for me to take over the body, I'm still stayin' in cyberspace, whatever. And after I'm gone... you'd better set up a tent in the fuckin' desert. You and I both know that it hasn't been about the job for a while." _

V huffs out a laugh.  _ Yeah. Yeah, it hasn't been about the job for a while, you're right. It's strange, though. I haven't felt this way for someone in... God knows how long. When I worked with Arasaka, I barely had any sort of time to myself, didn't even want to think about having to find a partner. So I didn't. 'Sides, it would've been too dangerous for them. _

_ "Could've been used as blackmail," _ Johnny agrees.  _ "Good on you for having some loose sense of empathy for another person while workin' under 'Saka. That's a rare thing to have when working for rats in suits. Proud o' you." _

_ Is that sarcasm, or are you being serious? _ V grins when Johnny doesn't respond, imagines the middle finger he's pointing at her right now. R _ egardless, thanks, Johnny. Arasaka... what I did for them. You've seen my memories, haven't you? _

_ "All of 'em, at this point."  _

V cringes.  _ Sorry you had to see some of those. Certainly not any of my best moments. _

_ "No shit. The only best moment you  _ **_could_ ** _ have when working for those cunts is if you blew up your boss' office. That'd be a sight to see." _

_ Well, he did die after trying to send me on that death march to Abernathy. I'm pretty sure that Abernathy got the short straw, too. Whether she did it herself or some higher-ups had it happen, I don't know. Don't really care, either. _ V swerves again, finally in the outskirts of the city. The desert dunes are a welcome change of scenery compared to the cityscape. A few months ago— Hell, even a few  _ weeks _ ago— V would have never expected to be  _ glad _ to have a reason to leave the city.

Maybe she should try to join the Aldecaldos. Huh.

The drive feels shorter than it actually is with Johnny keeping her company. Sometimes it's good to have another person in your head to talk to you at all times. 

Somewhere in V's mind, she wonders what it's going to be like when Johnny's gone. Lonely, probably.

She pulls up to the Aldecaldo camp and Panam walks up to her as she's unclasping her helmet. "I won't be finding any bludgeoned Aldecaldos, will I?" V says with a lopsided grin, yelping when Panam slaps her arm.  _ "Ow." _

"Ass. Is that normally how you say hi to your friends?" Panam grumbles, crossing her arms as she looks up at V. She stays mad for about five seconds before grinning and pulling V into a hug. "God, it's so good to see you. Saul has been a  _ nightmare _ to deal with."

V chuckles, wrapping her arms around Panam. "Yeah, I can tell. You look like shit. He's really been ripping your ass, huh?"

"Ugh,  _ yes. _ But he won't for much longer." Pulling away, Panam gestures for V to follow her. "Come on. If we're going to get this done without Saul catching on, then we have to get this done  _ fast. _ He already pissed me off earlier," she mutters, glaring at a particular tent before keeping her gaze forward. 

That must be Saul’s tent. V saves that information for later.

"Well, now that we're talking to each other in person, can you tell me what exactly is going on, now?" V asks, speeding up her gait to match Panam's. 

"Saul still wants to go through with the Biotechnica contract. To 'protect the clan,'" Panam sneers, eyes tightening with fury, "it’s fucking infuriating. And cowardly. All he is going to prove is that a corp can walk all over us, and we'll say thank you and ask for more. The vets and I don't agree with this contract, so I've come up with a plan. There's a Militech transport that's passing through soon, and they're wanting to peddle a Basilisk— an armored cargo panzer from back in 2060 or so— to a backwards country, somewhere it can still pass as a technological wonder."

"And you want to say hello before they can get it pawned off. Saul  _ seriously _ doesn't support this idea? If you get a panzer, then you would be able to protect the tribe without the help of a corporation—"

_ "Yes! _ Exactly," Panam exclaims, stomping her feet in the sand as she walks. "God, how is it so easy to get it through your head, but Saul fucking—  _ ugh. _ Anyway, yes, you're right; if we manage to get ahold of this transport and nab the panzer, we won't have any reason to try and lick Biotechnica's boots. Which will be a fuck you to both Saul  _ and _ a corpo."

"Two birds with one stone. Anything that involves sticking it to a corporation, I'm up for," V tilts her head with a soft smile, internally wincing at how much that sounded like something Johnny might say. "So, you want me to help with this, even though you have the vets on board. Any particular reason why?"

"The more hands, the better. Sounds to me that you're trying to fish for compliments, though, V," Panam grins, bumping V's arm with her elbow. “I’ll be explaining the rest when we get to the vets. Mitch already joined them ahead of me.”

V cocks a brow, then smirks. “Aw, you were my one-woman welcome party!” She wraps an arm around Panam as they walk, reveling in Panam’s laughter. “I’m flattered.”

“More like I wanted to make sure that you didn’t cause any trouble,” Panam teased, but some of the tension actually leaves her body.  _ “Lord _ knows how someone might try to get into a scrap with you if they know you used to work for a corp. That would not end well.”

“So you were  _ worried _ about me,” V coos, jumping away when Panam threatens to slap her again. "Come on, you  _ were! _ It's sweet of you to do that, Pan."

"You are such an ass," she scoffs, but she is thankful. V is a breath of fresh air compared to the stress that Saul has put her under. Snapping at her at every opportunity, ignoring every single one of her ideas. A part of Panam wonders why she thought it was a good idea to come back knowing  _ damn _ well that their buried hatchet would somehow crawl out of its grave as soon as Panam decided to open her mouth.

Especially if it meant going against Saul's ideas. Trying to partner up with  _ Biotechnica. _ A corporation, of all things! As if they wouldn't take advantage of the Aldecaldos and then throw them to the side like a tool that's outlived their use. No one would take them seriously ever again if they started kissing the asses of corporate scum.

Though, as she looks at V— someone who used to work for a corporate like Arasaka, which is the most rotten apple of the bunch— she supposes that either not all of the people who are hired by corporates are bad, or V is just one special woman.

Something warm in Panam takes ahold of her as she thinks that. Yeah, it is  _ definitely _ the latter. Panam's heard too many things about all of the horrible shit that corporates have done to consider anything other than the idea that V is just a good person. Better than average, maybe. She's killed people, manipulated them into getting what she wants. But the way that she acts, she's just... different. Certainly not in a bad way though. She can be aggravating at times, but the last time they were angry at each other it led to—

Led to... them sleeping together. Hm. 

Fuck. Why did she agree on stopping that? They never really talked about it much before V cut things off, but she wasn't lying when she said that it was good while it lasted. Didn't disagree when V said,  _ "I'm glad you enjoyed it," _ because she did. 

The good news is that their relationship hasn't changed. No awkwardness, not really. V's just as touchy and Panam is the same, so she supposes that she can just table all of those thoughts about V beneath her later.

_... Definitely _ for later. Not now, when V's so close, grinning at Panam, gray eyes bright. She looks a lot better compared to when she'd visited and argued with Panam until they were fucking in her tent. Which she really needs to apologize about. Maybe not about the sex, but the argument. 

They meet up with the vets who greet them with mixed reactions, though Panam doesn’t try to let it get to her. 

“Did’ja try to get Saul on board again?” Cassidy asks, looking at Panam sympathetically when she winces. “No luck, huh.”

V stands by her side rather than moving away to sit down, which sends another small wave of warmth tingling through Panam’s body. She quickly shakes her head, though, because now is one of the worst times to get distracted. “No dice. He’s still hellbent on trying to use Biotechnica as a stepping stone to and return the Aldecaldos to their former glory. Doesn’t matter if we have his help or not, though.”

_ “Bueno; porque ahora tenemos a tu chica de la ciudad para ayudarnos,” _ Carol grunts. V bristles, ready to use her years of experience with the Welles family to snap back with some colorful vocabulary, but Panam places a hand on her shoulder.

“V is here to help us. So please don’t start judging books by their covers, Carol,” Panam sighs, keeping her hand on V’s shoulder until the taller woman backs off. “Anyway, I’ll reiterate what we already know: Militech will transport the Basilisk in parts distributed across two trucks—”

“Wait,” Mitch interrupts, a teasing lilt to his voice, “do I sense a  _ quiver _ in your voice?”

Panam spins, flipping off Mitch and adding a heated, “Fuck  _ you,” _ for good measure. The vets do crack a smile or chuckle, though, so thank God for that. They’re all a little tense, everyone except for V, who’s watching Panam with rapt focus.

In reality, V is looking at Panam because Johnny’s standing right next to her, looking at V with another one of his disgruntled scowls. That, and she wants to make sure that she doesn’t miss a single important detail about this little heist of theirs. “We’ll halt the convoy at the railroad crossing on the one-oh-one—”

_ “V, this is risky,” _ Johnny says overtop of Panam,  _ “The relic malfunctions’ve been getting a lot worse, as of recent. If one happens and you’re in the midst of a firefight, then we’ll be in trouble. And Panam’ll probably risk her neck to keep you safe.” _

That’s certainly one way to make V anxious.  _ It won’t. Worst comes to worst, I take a blocker, at least to put off the inevitable.  _

“V?” Panam says softly, deep brown eyes slightly narrowed. “You okay? Not gonna pass out on me, are you?”

“Uh, no. No, I’m good,” V says, stumbling over her words. “But... Pan, this all seems too easy to me. Too convenient. The exact tech you need coming your way, almost served on a silver platter. The only way I’d trust this is if you managed to hack into the Militech communications channel, which—”

“Which Carol has done already,” Panam interrupts sweetly, gesturing to Carol before crossing her arms. “So the intel is trustworthy. Even if we do get into trouble, we’ll be fine. We have you, too.”

V chuckles nervously, glancing away from Panam as Johnny’s words echo in her head. “Right. Let’s motor, then.”

“You’re riding with me, V.” Panam nudges her before walking to her truck, and Johnny appears yet again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks while they walk to her Thorn, the vets too busy amongst themselves to hear Panam voice her concern.

V thinks about telling her the truth, but a quick glance to the glitching Rockerboy in her periphery is enough to make her immediately think otherwise. “Just a little nervous. Even I get anxious sometimes, Pan. No one’s going to notice you gone at camp?” She changes the subject quickly, sliding into the passenger seat of Panam’s truck and strapping in.

“It’s not as if Saul has any wish to see us there, anyway. Not when he’ll make a better second impression on the Biotechnica suits without our sour faces ruining the mood,” Panam replies, following after Carol and Mitch over the desert dunes.

Silence stretches between them as V only hums in response, watching the desert pass them by. The sun is barely peeking over the horizon, so they’ll probably be doing another stake-out. Shit. The longer this takes, the more V is at risk of having another relic malfunction in front of Panam. A worse one, too.

“Pan?”

“Hm?”

“You  _ really _ don’t miss living in Night City?” 

She’s expecting a glare, an immediate  _ Hell no, _ but Panam takes a moment to respond. “At times, perhaps. I miss the feeling of having a new beginning, of freedom… But I also haven’t forgotten the emptiness. The feeling of realizing it means nothing if you’re alone.”

Ah. V glances at Panam, who meets her eye for a moment. “I was more fortunate, I suppose. Never truly alone until recently.”

“You… had someone?” She knows what that question entails. The deeper, double meaning. Relationship or friendship? Or maybe V’s just looking too deep into Panam’s words.

“A friend. Brother, really— my  _ hermano. _ Jacquito Welles, though he preferred Jackie. You would’ve liked him, I think.” She can imagine it quite easily, really; Jackie and Panam bonding over alcohol, sharing stories of their adventures. Panam mentioning how she’d smuggled the deputy finance director of Kaukaz, and Jackie losing his shit.

Jackie going to the Aldecaldos camp with her to visit Panam, and his dumbass asking Carol about her Valentino tattoo. Singing while Cassidy plays his guitar, sharing his stories at the campfire with a beer in hand, definitely too drunk to be standing so close to an open fire.

“Jackie. I’ll remember that,” Panam hums, and the rest of the drive is silent.

V doesn’t think much of it, the rest of their drive a comfortable silence until they arrive at the abandoned station. She joins Panam in the control tower, though Johnny does say,  _ “Remember what I said, V.  _ **_Flimsy,”_ ** before V starts her trek up the flights of stairs.

Okay, she sees Johnny’s point. Again. 

Still, she focuses on what Panam tells her to do, searches for a card when the need arises, and watches amusedly as Panam yells down at Carol when they find one. Can’t help but laugh because she’s  _ such _ a dork, grinning and laughing when Panam half-glares at her. Puts the card in the reader and lets out a cheer when the locomotive powers up.

Then Panam calls to her as she’s leaning on the open window. “V… I wanted to talk to you.”

Her tone isn’t light like it was just a few seconds ago. “Is something wrong?” V asks, standing by the window with Panam. “Other than you being terrified of getting kicked out of the tribe for this stunt of yours.”

“Dear God, so you’ve noticed too,” Panam laughs drily, turning to lean back against the short wall. “But… I know this may sound foolish, because you offered and I asked you to help me. V,” her voice trembles, “why are you doing this?”

Trust issues. It does sting a little, not having Panam’s trust, but V does understand it. After what happened to her with Nash, someone from Night City doing something for her without asking for anything in return is unorthodox. Hell,  _ anyone _ doing  _ anything _ in Night City for free is unheard of.

“I’m doing this because it’s important to you.” She answers after a moment, the corners of her lips twitching when Panam sputters.

“That’s… all?”

“That’s all,” V laughs, before turning herself fully to face Panam. “I don’t want anything in return because I care about you,  _ muñeca. _ You’re important to me. Isn’t that enough?”

“I— I suppose it is, yes. It’s just… fuck. I’m really not good at this,” Panam sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. She takes a deep breath before continuing, “V, I really care about you. I don’t want to cock this up.”

V smiles, placing a hand on Panam’s shoulder. “You’ve been doing good so far.”

“That’s because I’ve kept my mouth shut,” Panam snorts, “Well, relatively. I… I wanted to apologize. The argument that we had a few days back… fuck, I’ll just say it; I was a bitch. I snapped at you for no good reason, and—”

“You were grieving,” V interrupts softly, squeezing Panam’s shoulder. “I also wasn’t in a good state of mind, Pan. It’s not a good excuse, but I get it. When I lost Jackie…” Empty in her body, a body that no longer belongs to her. An unwanted tenant, nerves rewiring, rewriting her existence into nothingness. Viktor telling her that she doesn’t have much time left, that she’s dying, but her mind is still in that Delamain, that cab, Jackie bleeding, blood on her hands,  _ his _ blood,  _ todo se va a la mierda _ —

“V. Hey,” Panam mutters, a warm hand on her cheek bringing her back down to earth. “You don’t have to talk about it, okay? I know he was important to you.” 

V exhales shakily, which tapers off into a hollow puff of laughter. “Yeah. The whole situation with him was  _ fucked _ up. Still not over it, really,” she says,  _ in more ways than one. _ “But we should probably get down there, yeah? Don’t want those vets to get cranky.”

The hand brushing against V cheek drops back to Panam’s side, and she looks at V with a lopsided smile. “Yeah, let’s rejoin the others. Thanks again, V.”

They walk down to the vets and V feels lighter than air. Maybe they won’t end up as anything more than friends, but as long as she can stay by Panam’s side like this, she’ll be fine. She feels that way when Panam smiles at her, when their shoulders brush, when they’re simply near each other. 

While she thinks that feeling will last forever, her phone vibrates. Her gait slows while she fishes out her phone, and the sender gives her a full stop. 

**Saul:** V, do you know where Panam is?

_ Uh oh. _ She glances at the nomads gathered around the small campfire, Cassidy with his guitar out already, beer bottles clinking against the asphalt. V knows it wouldn’t end well if she tells Saul the truth; Panam and the vets would end up being outcasts in the tribe, and that’s the complete opposite of their end goal. 

At least, that’s what she thinks Panam’s trying to do. To get Saul to acknowledge her ideas, her plans. Hopefully this is the final push that she needs.

**V:** I’m not her babysitter.

That should do it. She pockets her phone, joining the rest of the group and sitting next to Panam, who hands her a bottle of beer after opening it on her harness. 

A beat passes, filled by Cassidy’s soft guitar playing, until Carol speaks up.  _ “Mierda, _ Panam, you’re acting as if you’re the first person  _ ever _ to stand up to Saul.”

“Oh, save your breath, I don’t need to be consoled.” A few more seconds pass, then Panam taps her foot against the asphalt. Tap-tap-tap. Finally, she cracks, growling and asking, “Is it someone I know?”

“Knew,” Cassidy corrects, voice low. “Scorpion.”

V honestly expects a wince from Panam, a hitch of breath. But she’s fine, pursing her lips as the veterans continue talking about Scorpion. There’s a short rush of envy with that; when V talks about Jackie, she almost always locks up, can’t say a word about her  _ hermano. _ She tries to correct it, though, turns that envy into pride, happiness that Panam’s able to talk about Scorpion so freely. 

“Should raise a glass, to Scorpion,” V speaks up, a hand wrapping around the neck of her bottle, cold condensation sticking to her skin as she raises it. The vets quickly follow V by lifting their bottles.

“To Scorpion,” they echo. V smiles, glad that she was able to do something for the man she barely knows, moving the bottle to her lips—

“And to Jackie.” 

In that moment, the world freezes for V. She tries not to make it obvious, tries to suppress the sharp something stabbing repeatedly at her chest, but that gesture— that  _ thoughtfulness, _ even though she’s only mentioned Jackie three times, twice by name— has V’s throat burning, dry like the desert dunes surrounding them. Her eyes are watering, too, because holy  _ fuck _ was that out of left field.

But she’s so,  _ so _ warm. So happy, elated, feeling like she can take on the world, that she can walk into Arasaka’s headquarters and rip Adam Smasher to shreds with just a look. Panam’s glancing at her with a smile, her profile illuminated by the dancing flames, and with Cassidy’s guitar filling the silence, she couldn’t feel more at—

At home. She feels at home. With the veterans, like this, by a campfire in the Badlands, Panam by her side, the stars over their heads. V wants to feel like this forever, be with these  _ people _ forever, however long or short that might be. 

Fuck what Johnny wants— or doesn’t want her to do. 

She’s in love with Panam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's all of the translations from this chapter:  
> Bueno; porque ahora tenemos a tu chica de la ciudad para ayudarnos - Right; because now, we have your city girl to help us.  
> hermano - brother  
> todo se va a la mierda - it's all going to shit  
> mierda - shit
> 
> Also:  
> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVED WRITING THIS CHAPTER I HOPE YOU LVOED READING IT TOO UNTIL WEDNESDAY MY DUDES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-


	5. Here Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Uh, Panam—”  
> “What?”  
> V presses her lips together when Panam cranes her neck to look at her. “Your, um. Your hand. Gettin’ kinda… rough.”  
> God. Kill her now, please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely forgot about uploading this chapter today, so sorry! I hope the wait was worth it <3

They nab the Basilisk easier than V anticipated, and they were all grins, whoops, and cheers on the ride back to camp. The vets were, at least; Panam is tense in the driver seat, leg that isn’t stepping on the pedals bouncing up and down rapidly. 

V doesn’t know what to do, what to say— after her epiphany yesterday, she doesn’t know how to act without seeming to obvious about her feelings. But seeing Panam so anxious,  _ nervous _ about returning to the place that she calls her home, hurts V.

So she tries not to think about how she leans over, placing a hand on Panam’s leg that she’s shaking. “Hey, it’ll be fine. You won’t be handling him alone, Panam,” she tries, an attempt at a reassurance, her voice sounding confident while the rest of her buzzes with anxiety. “You’ll have the vets backing you up. And I’ll be there, too, though I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

Panam sighs, shoulders slumping slightly. She takes a hand off the steering wheel to place overtop of V’s. It seems to ground her, the fire in her eyes reigniting. “You’re right. Just to warn you, though, it might get ugly. I’m honestly expecting Saul to tear me to shreds in front of the family.”

“Well, he’ll definitely tear you to shreds. Probably not in front of the tribe, though,” V says, turning her hand up to give Panam’s a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this,  _ muñeca.” _

Panam squeezes her hand back. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d fucking better.”

They make it to the Aldecaldo camp without any hitches, and all their cheerfulness from earlier has completely dissipated. Panam gives her hand one more quick squeeze before leaving her car to join the vets and meet the storm waiting for them.

Which, speaking of, V never checked the other texts that she got from Saul.

**Saul:** For crying out loud, I don’t care what’s going on between you two, I’m just asking. Can’t you give me a straight answer?

**Saul:** When you see her, tell her I’m looking for her.

Hm. Ignoring the fact that he knows that her and Panam were… well,  _ fucking, _ her initial reaction to Saul texting her is the same.

Uh oh.

_ “Fuck! _ Panam!” Saul roars, charging toward them with rage blazing in his eyes. “What’s the meaning of this?!”

“Exactly what you see,” Panam replies smugly, standing her ground against Saul. The vets are doing the same, arms crossed, chests puffed out with pride. V tries to mimic their composure, but it’s hard not to wince when a flash of pain spreads from the biochip into her skull. Not a relic malfunction, just… the relic.

Not a malfunction yet, at least.

“All I see is two trucks with giant Militech logos on ‘em!” Saul snaps, gesturing wildly as he somehow raises his voice even more,  _ “Fuck, _ Panam! You can see them from  _ miles _ away! You think we don’t have enough problems on our hands?! The Raffens could rear theirs heads at any moment—”

V can tell that Panam’s slowly starting to lose her composure. She rolls her eyes, jaw clenching, foot tapping against the cracked highway, patience thinning with every word that spills from Saul’s lips. Still, his onslaught continues— 

“— And now we have Militech to worry about, too!”

And finally, Panam snaps.

“STOP IT!  _ FUCK! _ Just  _ shut up already!” _ V’s eyes widen in surprise, and she looks back at the vets. Cassidy looks like a proud grandfather, Mitch is completely composed aside from the glimmer of admiration in his eyes. Teddy looks like he’s completely zoning out the entire thing. Carol and Bobby turn away, but V sees the grins on their lips before they’re facing the opposite direction. 

Panam steps forward, getting in Saul’s face and gesticulating wildly. “Do you want to serve corporations forever?  _ Fine, _ go right ahead. In that case, we’ll leave the Basilisk as a  _ souvenir _ of what this family  _ used _ to be. Or, you know what? Maybe next time we’re attacked, we’ll be able to  _ fight back!” _

Another pang stabs at V’s skull, echoing through her nerves. She knows it’s Johnny, knows it’s—

Johnny’s memories with the nomads flash across her vision again. 

An argument similar to this one, it seems, with—  _ Santiago? _ It’s moving too fast for her to be sure— gesticulating wildly, hands flying in the air while he screams at someone. Someone whose face V can’t see clearly, then everything’s blurry and she realizes that Johnny’s on the edge of tears, throat burning as he tries to shove them back down. The person Santiago’s arguing with raises their hand in surrender before turning around and storming off.

He raises a hand, takes a step forward to follow them, but Santiago wraps a hand around Johnny’s wrist, shaking his head.  _ “It’s not worth it, Johnny. We need to go.” _ Slowly, Johnny hangs his head, lets Santiago drag him away. He turns, looking at the slowly fading figure that’s making his heart ache so much, and all V can make out is tanned skin, brown hair, and a blue Aldecaldos jacket before the memory disappears.

Once she’s back in the present, Saul is gone and the vets are already moving the truck elsewhere. Her surroundings are spinning while she stays stagnant— no sudden flashes of her optics glitching out, but she does feel sick to her fucking stomach.

Panam’s by her side in seconds, eyebrows knit with concern. “Hey, not looking too hot, there. Are you okay?”

“Little dizzy is all,” V sighs, squeezing her eyes shut. “You were hot, though. Got quite a pair of lungs, there,” she adds after a moment, cracking an eye open just in time to see Panam’s eyes widen in surprise, a blush darkening her cheeks.

“I, ah… the last time I probably pulled something like that, I was ten years old,” she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck. “But V, you look like you could get blown away by a breeze. Come on, I’ll take you to my tent, you can rest there.”

V nods, not even mustering up the energy to make the very easy  _ I certainly rested well the last time I was in your tent _ joke, following Panam. She doesn’t say a word until she’s ducking into the green tent, Panam closing the flaps behind her. “You good?” She asks Panam, who’s suddenly very close—

A cool hand presses against V’s forehead, and she positively  _ melts. _ “Christ, V. You’re burning up. Not gonna… start coughing up blood on me, are you?” Panam asks after dropping her hand, a joking tone underlying her words, but V doesn’t reassure her immediately. She glances to the side, looking down and away. “V.”

“If I rest, I should be fine. You should get back out there, yeah? I’d go with you when you meet with Saul, but it’s not my place. Not part of the family,” she shrugs, giving Panam a sympathetic smile before falling back onto her cot. “They’re on your side, though, Pan. I saw them drooling when they saw the Basilisk. Having something like that in your arsenal? Saul can’t deny how advantageous something like that will be once you put it together.”

Panam nods, pursing her lips. “Hopefully he says the same during that meeting. Knowing him, though? He will be too stubborn to admit that I’m right. Anyway,  _ rest. _ For as long as you need. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” V answers tiredly, shifting on the bed to rest on her side. “Good luck dealing with Saul.”

With a dry laugh, Panam turns to leave her tent. “Thanks. I’ll need it.” She pauses with one hand lifting the flaps open, then turns to V again. “And when the panzer’s finished, I promise that you’ll be the first to go in it. With me.”

She closes the flaps behind her, and V is alone. Relatively. Johnny’s still in her head, but he’s deathly quiet so V falls asleep with relative ease. Her dream is… different though. Not the usual nightmare, where she’s trying to raise a dead Jackie. It’s also not the one where she’s watching her health slowly deteriorate, where she sees herself bedridden or in a wheelchair, pale and sickly, more bone than flesh.

No. No, this is a Johnny memory.

* * *

Texts from Kerry blowing up his phone. God, he couldn’t be more fucking annoying. Buzz buzz buzz in Johnny’s pants pocket as he’s waiting for Rogue, foot tapping like a jackhammer on the cracked concrete. He decides that anything could amuse him at this point, fishing his phone out of his pocket and opening the message notifications.

**Kerry:** dude where the fuck are you? not at any of your usual spots

**Kerry:** you can’t just fucking disappear, johnny. what about the band?

**Kerry:** what the fuck is your problem, dude? ghosting like this

**Kerry:** could you be anymore fucking immature

**Kerry:** we need you, johnny

Okay. Maybe not anything. He turns on the setting to show that he’s read Kerry’s messages— he knows it’ll piss him right off— before turning off his phone. Should probably leave it behind if he knows what’s good for him; if ‘Saka somehow manages to track him all the way out here, then Lord knows what they’ll bring as firepower.

Not that it’s too far from Night City. A motel in the middle of the desert, which was practically  _ made _ for someone like him. Breaking into Arasaka Tower to try and find Alt—  _ save _ Alt— only for them to get there too late. A fucking travesty.

He feels hollow. Originally, he was angry, but now? Now he wants to get away from the city, wants to forget about how terribly he fucking failed. All he can think about is Alt’s limp body in his arms, how that  _ fucking _ screamsheet recorded it all, looked at Alt through his camera just for some food for the dogs of Night City to gobble up. 

Glad he beat that motherfucker’s face in. The cunt deserved it.

Johnny’s here now because he needs to lie low. Him, and Rogue. Santiago went ahead of them to go to back to the Aldecaldos, said he’d stayed in the city too long. Laughed about how the camp’d probably be in chaos when he returned. 

They’re supposed to meet him today. Arasaka hasn’t sent anyone out here to look for them for twenty-four hours, which is a good sign. Might be able to make it out of the Badlands and out to the rest of the desert that awaits them. A part of Johnny thinks that seeing all of the land that corporations have destroyed will light another fire, replace the gaping hole that Alt’s death has left in his chest.

‘Cause, while he’ll never admit it aloud, he loved Alt. Wouldn’t have written a song about her if he didn’t. 

The door to Rogue’s room hisses open, and she’s shouldering a bag as she walks out. “Let’s go,” she sighs, still giving Johnny the cold shoulder. “The faster we get out of this hellhole, the better. Did’ja sleep well?”

“The fact that you’re showin’ any concern for me has me worried,” Johnny replies with faux sweetness, avoiding her question with ease. After a moment, he decides to answer, “Let’s be real, Rogue; no one gets some shut-eye after a shitshow like that.”

Rogue gives him an unreadable look before turning and walking toward the nomad vehicle that Santiago brought them out here with.  _ “Wouldn’t want to ruin that cute little car of yours, rocker,” _ he’d said with a cheeky grin. _ “Leave it in the city, we’ll take my truck. I’ll call the tribe to pick me up, and the two of you will join us at the camp tomorrow.”  _

Johnny follows her after a moment, sliding into the driver seat as Rogue tosses her bag in the back. He starts the truck as she asks, “You’re really not bringing anything with you?”

“Don’t have nothin’ to bring in the first place. Samurai doesn’t really make a bangin’ buck, Rache. You’ve seen my apartment.” Bare bones besides the necessities. It’ll probably be someone else’s by the time he returns to Night City. Not that he gives a shit— push comes to shove, he’ll just throw out the new tenant and take back what’s rightfully his. 

Violently.

“Could at least bring a change of clothes,” Rogue scoffs, nose wrinkling. “Leather pants. In the  _ desert, _ Johnny. If Arasaka doesn’t get to you first, heat stroke will.”

“I’ll nab some nomad clothes from our Aldecaldo buddies,” Johnny grunts, cracking his window open. Too damn hot in this truck, and it’s only early morning. “Nice job, by the way. Gettin’ an in with a ‘Caldo to land us two a spot. Good opportunity to get out of the city, lay low for a while. The two of you seem to have chemistry.” He makes a left turn, maybe a little to sharp.

Rogue clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes. “What, Johnny. You  _ jealous?” _

“Hell no.” A pause. He turns on the radio. “Could probably land a threesome if I batted my eyelashes at him.”

_ “Jesus, _ Johnny—”

He cackles, grinning at Rogue before looking back at the road in front of him. The mood quickly dissipates though when the radio starts playing Samurai. Johnny slams his hand against the radio button with a scowl, immediately turning it off. With the way Rogue’s pursing her lips, he knows that she’s about to ask.

“The band. They know where you’re runnin’ off to? Or are you just ghosting them?”

“You know me well enough for me to not have t’ answer that,” Johnny answers defensively, pressing his foot on the gas. “Kerry already blew up my phone, not about to add more fuel to the fire. Need to put some space between me ‘n everythin’ in that city. After that, fuck knows I need it.”

Rogue doesn’t say anything after that, and neither does Johnny. The rest of the ride is quiet aside from the wind hitting his face, and they reach the Aldecaldo camp after another handful of minutes driving.

Johnny parks the car, but he doesn’t make a move to get out. “I’ll be out in a minute. Go find your output, see how kindly these nomads take to city-dwellers.” With a quiet curse pointed toward the rockerboy, Rogue leaves the truck and slams the passenger side door behind her. 

He watches her storm off into the camp, green tents pitched, surrounded by trailers and dozens of nomad vehicles. Sort of reminds him of the setup they had in Mexico. Except there wasn’t much laughing. Everyone walked around like zombies, cheeks sunken in while the shuffled around. There was the occasional gathering of his platoon, when they were tired of being depressed pawns for the government to abuse over and over again.

They would drink and laugh together, a soul would pull a guitar out from thin air and they would all sing along, fuck who complained because those moments were keeping them above water. Those were the memories Johnny held close to his heart.

Then he deserted, and lost so much fucking more than he could’ve imagined.

Not wanting to go down  _ that _ train of thoughts, he pushes himself out of the truck, pocketing the key card before going to find Santiago.

Which isn’t hard, because he’s standing on the bed of a truck, arms on his sides as the members of the tribe slowly congregate to hear what he has to say. When Santiago sees Johnny, he grins, gives him a nod. Then he takes a deep breath, starts pacing on the bed of the truck, and begins his speech.

“Brothers! Sisters! Just yesterday, I was in Night City, and just a few months ago, I was working as a soldier, a bodyguard, a roadie. While doing these gigs, I’ve realized one thing: Us nomads? We don’t have any home except for the Caravan. We don’t have any rights ‘cept for what we take. We get run outta town by linefoots and pigs, get raided by the roadwarrior packs. Still, we survive. We survive ‘cause we’ve got guns and bikes,” he gestures to the vehicles surrounding the camp, grabs the rifle slung over his back.

“We survive ‘cause we’ve got each other. In the Badlands, we need to rely on our fellow nomads or we’ll get swallowed whole by the nightmares these lands hold. This ain’t no boostergang, not anymore. There’s not just a community of fellow desert-drivers, here; there are families here. You lot, a pain as you are,” he grins at the laughter, “are my family. And ain’t nothin’ changin’ that. It’s a damn fact, now. We’re Aldecaldos, and we’ll act as such, damnit! Fuck what the city wants from us, fuck what those corpo- _ rats _ want from us. We fight for our family!”

He pumps a fist in the air, cheering, “Guns and cyberbikes!”

The chant quickly echoes through the group, and Johnny’s impressed. Something else bubbles up inside of him though. Something that just…  _ clicks _ into place. As Santiago grins, chest puffing out with pride as his family cheers him on, eyes searching the crowd for Rogue, who’s surprisingly cheering him on as well.

Feels… warm. Feels like—

_ “Alright, that’s enough peeking through my memories, V.” _

The scene freezes, then Johnny appears in front of V. He glares at the crowd which quickly disappears in a flash of blue zeroes and ones, and the two of them stand in the ghost camp. “I knew I was too tall to be in your body,” V replies coolly, crossing her arms at the same time Johnny does. “So, you joined the Aldecaldos. Get a jacket?”

_ “I was a member only in name, unfortunately. Santiago wasn’t even a leader, then,” _ he replies, gesturing to the truck that the nomad had been standing on.  _ “‘S before he changed his last name to Aldecaldo. Started sowing those seeds for a good leader, though. No idea where he is now; Rogue disappeared after he banged her up and had a kid, ‘nd I left with her.” _

“Certainly not what you other memory looked like,” V said, cocking a brow. “Seemed to me like you stayed with the Aldecaldos a little longer, tried to leave with an input—”

_ “Wasn’t just an input,” _ Johnny growls, then sighs.  _ “Anyway, don’t matter, now. Happened years ago, so stop peekin’ around in my head, would’ja?” _

* * *

V wakes up slowly, confusion already grabbing her consciousness.  _ Johnny. I still have questions. _

No response. She’s about to say his name aloud when the tent flaps fly open and V yelps when a ball of dark brown hair and tanned skin is standing in front of her. “V! Good, you’re already up— come on, let’s go!” 

She’s pulling at V’s arms, forcing her up from the cot. “What are you so exited for?” V laughs, voice still tinged with sleep. Slowly she gets up and stands, and Panam is grabbing her hands and dragging her out of the tent. “Is the panzer—”

“Yes! Yes, it’s ready. Bobby and Mitch have worked on it nonstop and… well, you’ve been out for a while. But it doesn’t matter!” This is the most excited that V’s seen Panam— not that they’ve known each other for that long, but this is a childlike sort of giddiness. It’s cute. The way she has a bounce in her step as she pulls V along, the sparkle in her eyes.

Something she said does give V pause, though. She blinks, realizing that the sun is peeking over the horizon, and it hits her that she slept for a full day. “Where did you sleep, Panam?”

“Didn’t.”

“What?”

Panam groans, yanking V along again. “Didn’t sleep, but it’s fine. V, Mitch  _ did _ do a little test run— diagnostics, system checks to make sure nothing will blow up when we use it, the works— but you and I are going to do a little more. Drive outside outside of camp, fire a couple of rounds.”

“And you’re  _ sure _ that Militech didn’t—”

“Leave any ICE on the thing? Yes, Carol already checked,” Panam interrupts, “God, I’m surprised the two of you don’t get along more. You’re both nerds.”

V rolls her eyes but lets Panam pull her along until they’re on the outskirts of camp. Once she sees all of the vets surrounding the panzer, she whistles. “Damn. I’ve never seen on in person. No wonder how they got all of those naive gonks to land their asses at the front in Mexico. All they had to do was show you the tech, and they’d want to take one of these babies for a spin,” she murmurs, running her hand over the fortified metal of the panzer. “Didn’t have something so advanced in the CAC, but the tanks and mechs were enough to have potential recruits drooling. The thought of getting their hands on advanced military implants in return for fighting in a war seemed like a worthy trade, and…”

And she realizes that those are Johnny’s thoughts, not V’s. She clamps her mouth shut, biting the inside of her mouth. The vets are looking at her like she’s some sort of deserter— which is partially true. But she’s not nearly old enough to have fought in the Central American Conflict. 

“My neighbor in my apartment is a vet,” she explains haphazardly, giving the vets a reassuring smile as she hones her years of working at Arasaka. “I’ve spent a lot of time with him and he’s told me a lot about his time in the war.”

They seem to believe it. Thank God.

“Your neighbor must be old as fuck if he fought in the Central American Conflict,” Teddy mutters, shaking his head. “Poor dude.”

_ “Anyway,” _ Panam interjects before the vets can ask more about V’s semi-imaginary neighbor, “V, let’s go! Hop in! I’m not about to wait any longer to drive this baby,” she adds, jumping onto the hood of the Basilisk. She stretches out a hand for V who takes it, and they’re making their way into the panzer. 

Panam quickly stops though, dropping her hand from V’s to take her jacket off. She tosses it to Carol, who catches it at the last second, giving Panam the middle finger before she’s turning back around to get into the panzer.

The crystal dome pops open and V drops in, and Panam quickly follows in her seat. V hums, scanning all of the different buttons and screens in the semi-darkness. “It’s not the latest model, but Mitch ‘n Bobby did what they could. Don’t get intimidated by all of the controls, alright?”

A quick stab of pain from the relic. Flashes of similar-looking technology from the Central American Conflict, the buttons and screens similar but different somehow. Not as many settings, no way to adjust the thrust. Tanks,  _ right, _ they didn’t have panzers back then, but goddamn if they weren’t close to a breakthrough while she—

_ He, _ V quickly corrects. While Johnny was still in the war. Before he deserted.

“I think I’ll be fine. Shouldn’t be too hard,” V breathes, rubbing at her temples. The Basilisk’s systems boot up and the crystal domes activate, the sunlight assaulting V’s eyes in a sudden, brilliant flash. 

Panam sees her wince and laughs, grabbing a cord from behind her and jacking in V watches her slowly move the panzer back, then drive further away from camp. “‘Shouldn’t be too hard,’ huh? Good thing you only have to jack in to drive. The impulse runs directly to your cerebral cortex. In a sense, the Basilisk becomes an extension of your body.” She grins, waggling her eyebrows. “It’s like a mystical oneness.”

V cocks a brow. “Have you ever piloted anything like this?”

“No, why?” Faux innocence coats Panam’s tone. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Panam.”

She throws her head back and laughs. “We’ll be fine, you’ll see. Okay, I’ll disconnect for now. You jack in, and I’ll have you do some test driving. Think you can handle it?” Panam asks cheekily, taking the port out of her neck. The panzer shuts back down again, and the two of them are barely illuminated by the little amount of light peeking through the corners of the crystal domes.

“I’m a big girl, I’m sure a little driving won’t freak me out,” V huffs, turning to grab the cord and jacking in. The neural synchronization is… a lot, at first. She doesn’t even think about how Johnny’s engram might affect the sync until an error pops up in front of her optics.  _ “Mierda, tiene que ser broma,” _ she groans, hitting the back of her head on her seat with a dull thud. 

“What’s wrong? It should have no problems syncing up unless there’s a clash with your installed mods,” Panam mutters, leaning toward V’s side to take a look at her screens. “Oh, goddamnit, V! You  _ still _ haven’t gotten that malware of yours checked out?”

“I’ve grown attached,” V deadpans, her breath hitching when Panam places a hand on her leg, leaning over further to review the information on V’s side. “And… it’d cost a lot to get it removed.”

_ The cost being my life, but she doesn’t have to know that, _ V thinks drily.

Aggressive button clicking and screen tapping fills the silence between the two of them, and Panam scoffs. “Attached to fucking  _ malware. _ I knew you were a special case, but you may as well be friends with a damn tapeworm.” The hand on V’s leg tightens, nails digging slightly into her skin through her pants. 

Flimsy agreement, fragile arrangement,  _ fuck. _ Panam is so close to her and the wisps of hair that aren’t in her bun are brushing against her neck. She isn’t even  _ thinking _ about how close they are, it seems like. Panam growls out a slew of curses, adjusting her hand’s placement on V’s leg.

“Uh, Panam—”

“What?”

V presses her lips together when Panam cranes her neck to look at her. “Your, um. Your hand. Gettin’ kinda… rough.”

God. Kill her now, please.

Panam looks down at her hand, blinking as if she didn’t realize that she’d put it there. V isn’t looking at her, face flushed as her head is turned to the side. Still, Panam doesn’t move her hand. They’re at a standstill.

“V.”

She jumps, willing her body to just  _ fucking _ relax. “Yes?”

Panam shifts, and instead of her leg moving  _ away _ it moves further  _ up. _ She grins something wicked when V exhales shakily, muttering, “You’ve never been one to complain about it, before, pretty girl. What’s changed?”

V’s pretty sure she stops breathing for a solid few seconds, even after Panam leans back, cackling and shaking her head. “Glad you’re having so much fun,” V finally managed to grumble after a moment, lips curling into a scowl as Panam continues working on bypassing V’s “malware.”

“Oh, if you think  _ this _ is fun,” Panam chuckles, her voice low and breathy,  _ “just _ you wait. Alright,” she says, her tone switching back to normal as she pushes herself back to her side, “should work, now. Finally.”

It’s certainly a strange feeling, but with Panam guiding her through basic movements she gets it down. “I’ll be damned, V! You did say you’d be good. Ain’t that a surprise,” Panam says after they’ve finished all of the practice. “Now, I’ll jack in and—”

“Wait,” V interrupts. “So, if the Basilisk becomes an extended part of the user who jacks in, then won’t the pilots connect through that? Thoughts, feelings… all of it?”

“All of it,” Panam confirms, smirking at V. “If you want full functionality in an engagement, you need a second person to handle the sensory overload. One pilot steers, the other handles the gun. It’s… oddly pleasant. So, can I jack in, or are you going to be a big baby about it?”

A nervous laugh slips from V’s lips, and she waves a hand.  _ “Me vas a matar— _ go for it, Pan.”

V tries to relax before Panam jacks in, but she doesn’t expect the sudden influx of…  _ everything. _ Her optic’s switch to Panam’s, glitching around. She thought the initial neural synchronization was bad, but this is so much more. Everything— every feeling she has, every movement that either of them makes— is doubled.

The movements aren’t the problem. The  _ feelings, _ on the other hand…

_ “Dios mio,” _ V hisses, which tapers off into a quiet whimper. She’s trying to catch her breath because she feels like she’s on fucking  _ fire, _ pressing her legs together to at least try and alleviate some of the sudden discomfort. “You said this was oddly pleasant?”

“Well,” Panam starts, slightly breathless, “you must understand that it was  _ quite _ the different experience with Mitch.” She places a hand on her own leg— her  _ thigh— _ and V jumps at the sudden jolt, the feedback from the Basilisk.

She’s  _ really _ starting to want to break that agreement they made. From the way Panam’s acting, she does, too. “Panam…”

“Can’t you feel it, V? What you do to me,” she drags her hand  _ so _ slowly across her skin, moves it up to rest it over her stomach, and V can only sit there and  _ breathe. _ “I want this. I want  _ you. _ Can I?”

There is nothing more in the world that V wants. She told Johnny. Panam is one of the best things to happen to her after everything that went to shit in Konpeki Plaza, if not  _ the _ best thing. So she takes a deep breath in, and mutters a quiet,  _ “Please.” _

“Good,” Panam replies with a laugh, “Or I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

_ I’m sure you would find a solution, _ V starts to say, but she only gets out the, “I’m—” before Panam starts moving her hands again. The feedback loop is fucking her  _ up, _ in more ways than one. The feelings from Panam spurring V on, and then V’s feelings spurring Panam on, the two of them in an echo chamber that’s bouncing each signal back and forth.

Of course Panam’s fucking  _ reveling _ in every response she gets from V. Trailing one hand up between the swell of her breasts, the other drawing lazy patterns on her thighs. It’s something that V’s used to at this point, Panam teasing her. Bringing her hands so close to where V wants them, then pulling away at  _ just _ the right moment.

Though, in this case, it’s a lot different. Instead of Panam doing all of this to V, she’s doing it to herself, and those ghost touches from Panam touching  _ herself _ transfer to V, who’s a fucking mess while sitting in her own seat. Her hands twitch at her sides, and Panam picks it up immediately.

“No.”

V freezes.  _ No? _ “What do you—”

“You know what I mean,” she purrs, her voice lilting and light even as she continues her ministrations. “Keep those hands at your sides, or I stop.” An order that might harm both of them in the long run, but the delicious tension from V transferring over to Panam is perfectly worth it. “Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

_ Oh, _ that gets Panam. V knows it, too, and she manages a short laugh before she’s gasping, throwing her head back because Panam pressed her hand  _ hard _ against her clit. She curses while V moans, and that just spurs her on more. She wants to elicit more of those sounds from V, and the more jealous side of her wants to be the  _ only _ person who hears them. She wants to be the only one that knows how sensitive V’s neck is, how her hips buck when Panam wraps a hand around her own throat and presses  _ so _ lightly—

“Fuck,  _ Panam—” _

— but that featherlight amount of pressure is enough for V to say her name like  _ that. _ So breathy and low and full of  _ want. _ Even though Panam can tell she wants more, she keeps her hands at her sides, practically digging her nails into the material of her seat.

_ Fuck, _ if this isn’t torture, though. She’s going slow to tease V, fingers slowly undoing her harness— because she can’t really get  _ anywhere _ while it’s still on— and sliding her one piece down her torso to get better access. 

Oh, poor V. She’s so fucking tense. Her eyes are squeezed shut, breathing erratic, still as a statue. “Relax, V,” Panam says, more as a taunt than anything else because she finally dips a hand between her thighs.

_ “Reverendo hijo de las mil putas— _ ah!” 

“Mhmm,” Panam moans, head hitting the back of her chair  _ hard _ as she drags her fingers through the wetness between her thighs. “Me too, lover girl.”

Panam slides a finger inside herself, and she groans while V’s words are a strangled string of curses and pleasure. Still, it’s not enough, not  _ nearly _ enough for how riled up V got her. So one finger turns into two, two into three. Panam’s breath is ragged, intermingled with curses as she fucks herself. V isn’t doing much better, whimpering and muttering extremities under choked gasps for air. 

Over the blood rushing in her ears, Panam hears V beg, “Please, Pan, fuck,  _ please―” _ and whatever control she has left disappears. She can’t say no when V sounds so  _ desperate, _ so she grinds herself against her palm, lifts her other hand and wraps it around her throat, crying out and calling V’s name as she’s overtaken by ecstasy.

The orgasm ricochets between the two of them until it’s too much and they both yank the cords out of their ports. They’re left in darkness, both of them gasping for air. 

“You can move now, V—”

She launches herself over the center console to straddle Panam’s lap, crashing their lips together with a low growl rumbling at the back of her throat. “You. Are a  _ bitch,” _ she hisses, “and I am going to get you back for this.  _ And _ the last two.”

“I’m looking forward to it, but,” she starts breathily, placing a hand on V’s chest, “we need to get back to camp. Wasn’t planning on spending too long out here anyway… Not that I’m complaining. You can relax, I’ll jack in and get us ho— back to camp.”

Guilt wrenches at V’s gut when she hears Panam stumble like that, but she doesn’t say a word. Neither does Panam, who looks embarrassed to make such a slip-up. V understands why she wants her to join the Aldecaldos— she’s already done so much for them, visits the camp often, Saul likes her; although, after she helped Panam with the Basilisk, that’s probably changed.

So V tilts her head to brush her nose against Panam’s, and she kisses her  _ so _ softly.  _ I love you, _ she wants to say, but she knows that dropping a bomb like that would be too much. So she pulls away slightly and decides on saying, “It’s okay, Pan. We can talk about it later, okay? I’m not mad,” she kisses the corner of Panam’s lips, “not at all.”

Panam doesn’t expect the sudden tenderness, especially not after everything just did. “I— okay. Okay, sure. Get back in your seat, V, I can’t drive like this,” she grumbles, patting V’s chest as her face warms. “And I need to put my clothes back on.”

V snorts, pulling away and stepping over the console while Panam pulls her one piece back up and redos her harness, trying to clean off her hand on the side of her pants. She was smart to not let V get close to her during that, because V would’ve left plenty of marks on Panam’s neck and shoulders. 

Still, V said that she’d get Panam back. So there would be another time to make those marks, hopefully when they don’t  _ have _ explain anything to anyone about their… relationship.

The drive back to the camp is comfortable. Short because they weren’t too far to begin with, but it’s still nice. They’re going to talk about it, too, which means that V might actually be able to Panam that she wants them to be more than their flukes as an aside to their friendship. It might also mean that she has to tell Panam about Johnny, which isn’t something she  _ wants _ to do, per se, but if she has another relic malfunction, then Panam won’t just sit back and let V keep that from her.

Especially when Johnny is uncharacteristically quiet. He has been for a while, since V saw that memory of him with the Aldecaldos. He’s probably  _ fuming _ by now, though V can’t really focus on his feelings. Can’t really feel him at all, so maybe he’s just sleeping somewhere in her head.

Still, she promised Johnny that she would go to Hanako after she finished everything here. Call her and say that she’s ready to meet, then go to Embers and pray that they can work something out. If not then, well…

She’ll find a way. Has to, now.

They return the Basilisk to its station and, instead of immediately moving to get out, Panam freezes in her seat. V waits for her to quietly explain, “Saul is waiting out there. With the vets.”

“I’m sure he just wants to talk, Panam,” V consoles her, “After giving him space he’s cooled down, and we can get out of this panzer—“

It’s V’s turn to pause. She remembers seeing a laptop in Mitch’s lap while he was reviewing the data from the Basilisk. If it was connected to what V  _ thinks _ it was, then there would be a lot more than Panam’s problem with Saul waiting for them out there.

“So I have… bad news,” V starts slowly, then picks up when Panam looks at her. “For panzers like these, there’s always someone back in base who watches the lifesigns of the pilots,” she continues quickly, “Or, at least, that’s how it was in the CAC. They had to watch and make sure that the sensory overload didn’t short-circuit the pilots, or— or that their heart rates don’t rise above a level of concern. If someone was watching the lifesign statistics…

“Then they would’ve seen the spike.”

Neither of them move. Not only would it be a  _ nightmare _ to try and explain why she and Panam had sex in the panzer when they’re just friends, but if Saul is out there then  _ fuck _ knows what he’ll have to say about it. Especially if he’s still pissed off.

Through all of her nervousness, V manages a hollow laugh. “What the fuck. This must be one of the strangest situations I’ve ever found myself in. I’ve had the occasional shitshow when I was with Arasaka, but this is something else,” she explains, leaning back on her seat with a sigh. 

“I think this might be another thing I will never be able to live down,” Panam groans, running a hand down her face. She takes another moment before muttering a quick, “Fuck it,” and she’s standing to push the crystal dome open and leave the Basilisk.

V quickly follows, even though  _ anything _ would be better than facing the storm that awaits, composing herself as much as possible as she and Panam walk down the length of the panzer. 

Saul is patiently waiting for them, arms crossed and face unreadable. Mitch slowly closes the laptop connected to the Basilisk and V fucking  _ knew it. _ He has a guilty look on his face as Saul steps forward, completely ignoring V to glower at Panam.

Panam, who’s looking at Saul like the cat who caught the fucking canary. “Saul.”

Looking at the rest of the vets, V realizes that they know what happened, too. Cassidy is pinching the bridge of his nose, letting out the longest sigh of disappointment, while Carol and Bobby are quietly cackling, shoulders shaking at the effort to keep quiet.

Teddy looks like he wants to be  _ anywhere _ but here, and V couldn’t agree more. 

“I see that the panzer is in good working condition,” Saul begins, and V can tell that he’s struggling to stay calm. 

“It is,” Panam agrees, that smug smile never leaving her lips, “drives like a dream. V and I had a  _ great _ time doing that test run,” she drawls, and Saul’s eyebrow twitches. Any of the composure that V had disappears as her face  _ burns _ with embarrassment. 

“If you’re going to be so obvious about it,” Saul sighs, running a hand through his hair, “then we might as well stop beating around the bush. Mitch showed us the diagnostics while the two of you were out there, and he knew what the two of you were doing as soon as your lifesigns went into the red.”

Mitch steps forward, lifting a hand. “To be fair, I  _ did _ say that it was common for two pilots in a Basilisk to engage in this sort of thing,” he interjects. “The adrenaline after a fight, and— and one thing might lead to another…” He trails off, knowing that everyone present could put two and two together.

_ That would’ve been nice to know, _ V wants to grumble. She knows better to try and do anything that would earn Saul’s attention, though, so she keeps her mouth shut.

“Regardless of what two pilots might do, that is  _ not _ something I need happening in it,” Saul barks, his gestures becoming more aggressive. “The two of you should be able to keep it in your pants until  _ after _ you’re out of the damn Basilisk. I don’t need—”

“Oh my god, don’t even start to act all high and mighty,” Panam interrupts, “I know for a damn fact that if we had a panzer a decade back, you’d be riding in that thing with whoever you wanted— hell, they’d be riding  _ you, _ Saul. So don’t try to pretend for a  _ second _ that V and I are in the wrong.”

Bobby guffaws audibly at that, and even Cassidy snorts, though he tries to cover it with a cough. V honestly couldn’t be more proud of Panam, with how easily she’s standing up to Saul, even now. 

“Do not try to bring up the past in order to defend yourself, Panam,” Saul argues, “You’re still on thin ice for going behind my back and—”

A flash of blue zeroes and ones fill the corners of V’s vision. She leans back against the Basilisk, trying to shake them away.  _ Not now. Not now— _

“Come  _ on, _ Saul! Just admit that the panzer will help us defend ourselves—”

The world starts to spin, and V squeezes her eyes shut. Blood rushing in her ears drowns out the slowly rising argument. Every breath she takes feels like fire, every twitch of her muscles burns like she’s tossed herself into a fucking volcano. Everything burns, everything  _ burns, Johnny help me— _

She’s out before she even crumples to the ground. The last thing she sees is Panam turning toward her, face blurry, and moving toward V to catch her, eyes full of concern. Then V’s eyes are closed again, and she’s enveloped in a cold darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the ending wasn't exactly nice of me, but hopefully chapter 6 will have you lot forgive me. I've been really busy with college and personal life so I haven't been able to finish writing that chapter, but I promise that I'll have it out by next week.
> 
> Spanish translations:
> 
> Mierda, tiene que ser broma - Shit, you have got to be kidding me.  
> Me vas a matar - You'll be the death of me.  
> Reverendo hijo de las mil putas - Fucking son of a thousand whores
> 
> Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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